


LlBPulRY OF CONGRESS. 






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UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



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POEMS 



BY 



SAMUEL B. SUMNER 



CHAELES A. SUMNER. 




NEW TOKK : 
THE AUTHOES' PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

1877. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1877, by 

S. B. SUMNEE, 

In the Office of tlie Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



DEDICATION. 



TO THE MEMOET OF OUE MOTHEE, 

PLUMA AMELIA BAKSTOW SUMNEB, 

LONG SINCE DEAD, FROM WHOSE CUIiTTJBED UPS WE LEAENED OUB 
TTEST AND BEST LESSONS, THIS VOLUME 13 AFFEC- 
TIONATELY INSCETBED. 



PEEFACE 



The following verses and rhymes, written at different periods 
of our lives, and alternating from grave to gay, will not lack 
variety at least ; and will afford some entertainment, we trust, to 
all classes of our readers. Several pieces may be deemed lacking 
in dignity or poetic art, many are juvenile compositions, and 
many are of special local interest ; but for reasons which will be 
obvious, and by advice of those whose judgment we value, we 
insert them in this collection. Not without timidity, but relying 
upon the public indulgence, we launch this little venture on the 
uncertain sea. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

The True Life— A Eh^^med Sermon.— S. B. S H 

Music— S. B. S 35 

The Irretrievable,— C. A. S 37 

A Valentine. — S. B. S ai 

Valentine— To L.— S. B. S 42 

One Valentine's Night.— C. A. S 43 

After a Lover's Quarrel.— S. B. S 45 

Ode— July 4th, 1850.— S. B. S 4g 

Why I Weep.— S. B. S ' ^ \* 4g 

Valentine.— S. B. S 5q 

A Song for the Boys.— S. B. S 5I 

Ii-eland's Opportunity.— C. A. S 53 

To Helen— S. B. S gg 

The Fall of the Year— S. B. S * ' * 58 

Hope.— C. A. S gg 

Lines Written in an Album.— S. B. S 60 

To a Lady on Beceiving a Bouquet.— S. B. S 62 

A Combat— C. A. S g4 

Bamum's Baby Show— 1855.— S. B. S 68 

Memory and Hope.— C. A. S 72 

Lines Bead at a Supper of Company C, 1st BattaUon In- 
fantry, Massachusetts Volunteers, 1855.— S. B. S 76 

Female Equestrianship.— S. B. S 80 

Lines for St. John's Day.— C. A. S 83 

Christmas Lines to Three Boarding. School Misses.— S. B. S.. 87 

Lines Read at Children's Festival, Jaly 4th, 1856.— S. B. S. . 89 

vii 



Viii CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Old Scenes.— C. A. S 95 

Valentine— The Lady Helen.— S. B. S 102 

Lines to Ada.— S. B. S 104 

Touches and Hints — Poem Delivered at Zeta Psi Banquet, 

California.— C. A. S 105 

Lines for St. John's Day, Great Barrington, Mass. — S. B. S. . 117 
Verses Read on St. John's Day, Pittsfield, Mass.— S. B. S. . . 121 

Lines Read on St. John's Day, Lee, Mass. — S. B. S 125 

To Belle.— C. A. S 129 

Atlantic Cablt, Poem.— S. B. S 132 

Two Weeks.— C. A. S 136 

Lines Read at Dedication of Alumni Hall, Williams Col- 
lege.— S. B. S 137 

Helena.— C. AS 144 

Verses Read at Great Barrington, July 4th, 1861.— S. B. S. . . 145 

Memories.— S. B. S 148 

Poem Delivered before I. 0. 0. F., 1863. -C. A. S 173 

Lines Read at a Masonic Supper. — S. B. S 191 

Lines Read at a Dinner of the Berkshire Medical Society. — 

S. B. S 196 

WoBDS. — Lines Read before Sacramento Library Associa- 
tion.— C. A. S 202 

Experiences Afloat.— S. B. S 217 

Charge of the 49th.— S. B. S 220 

Lines Written at Sea, July 4th, 1863.— S. B. S 224 

To Julia in Heaven.— S. B. S 228 

Musings in a Cemetery. — S. B. S 232 

Poem, July 4th, 1865.— S. B. S 240 

Lines Read at William D. Bishop's Crystal Wedding. — S. 

B. S 251 

Poem Delivered at Re-union of 49th Massachusetts Regi- 
ment— S. B. S 257 



CONTENTS. ix 

PAGE. 

Lines Eead at Great Barrington, July 4, 1867.— S. B. S , 287 

Lines Eead at Zeta Psi Supper, 1867.— S. B. S 292 

A Legend of Black Eock.— S. B. S 300 

Eose Cottage Eeminiscences . — S . B. S 305 

Lines Eead at a Clam Bake, 1873.— S. B. S 309 

"Milk."— S. B. S 313 

Gagrow.— C. A. S 318 

Decoration Day Poem, 1869.— S. B. S 320 

Hymn.— S. B. S 329 

Decoration Day Poem, 1870.— S. B. S 331 

Sunrise on the Sierras. — C. A. S 342 

Farewell Hymn to Eev. J. B. F.— S. B. S 343 

Hymn at Dedication of Julia Sumner Hall. — S. B. S 345 

Prologue to Tableau, Cagliostro's Mirror.— S. B. S 347 

Poem Eead at Opening Bridgeport Opera House.— S. B S. . . 349 

In Memoriam.— S. B. S. (With Portrait.) 357 

The Dial.— C. A. S 360 

Lines Eead at Dinner of Fairfield County Bar to Judge Sey- 
mour.— S. B. S 361 

Poem Eead at a Dinner to P. T. Bamum.— S. B. S 366 

Martyrdom in the Temple.— C. A. S 373 

My Brother's Eing.— S. B. S 380 

Poem at St. George's Society Banquet, 1875.— S. B. S 384 

Lines Eead at Ee-union of Connecticut Veterans. — S. B. S. . 392 
Poem Eead at Wm. D. Bishop's Silver Wedding.- S. B. S. . . 397 
Lines to a Lady, on being asked for an Old Time Valen- 
tine.— S. B. S 403 

Love's Biography. - C. A. S 405 

Poem Eead at Opening Town Hall, Great Barrington. — 

S. B. S 406 

Lines Eead at Burns Festival, 1876.— S. B. S 416 

Poem Eead at Williams' Alumni Dinner, 1876.— S. B. S. . . . - 422 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Poem delivered at Dedication of Soldiers' Monument, 

Bridgeport.— S. B. S , 429 

Lines Read before I. O. O. F., Virginia City, Nev., 1865.— C. 

A. S 438 

The Funeral.- S. B. S 446 

A Sailor's Vision.— C. A. S 449 

Poem Eead at Housatonic Agricultural Fair, 1876, — S. B. S.. 454 

SHver Wedding Lines.— C. A. S 462 

Lines Eead at Burns Festival, 1877 — "The Lassies." — S. 

B. S 464 

Shakespeare— Lines Eead at St. George's Society, Annual 

Banquet, 1877.— S. B. S 468 

The Father and Three Sons.— S. B. S ... 470 

The Tramp's Soliloquy.— S. B. S 473 

Lines Eead at F. W. Parrott's Golden Wedding— S. B. S. . . . 476 

Mors.-S. B. S 483 

Spring.— S. B. S 484 

Albert.— C. A. S 485 

The Prodigal Son.— S. B. S 487 

Georgianna.— S. B. S 489 

Our Father.— S. B. S 492 



POEMS 



THE TKUE LIFE; 

A EHYMED SEKMON, 
DELIVEKED ON SEVEEAL OCCASIONS. 

In earlier clajs, before life's troubled sea 
Had oped the vortex of its cares for me ; 
Wlien, to my youthful and enraptured glance, 
Stretched out afar its beautiful expanse, 
Luring the voyager, by the charming scene. 
To launch forth, hopeful, on its breast serene ; 
When youth was fresh, and boyhood could descry 
No cloud of threat'ning in the distant sky ; 
When, unencumbered with the toils of life, 
Its whirl of business, and incessant strife. 
The hours sped on, with grateful leisure fraught, 
With scope for fancy and untrammeled thought ; 
Freedom to stroll through Academus' shades, 
To con the classics, and to woo the maids ; 
Each winged pleasure in its flight to seize, 
And idly wanton in the lap of ease ; 
Ah, then, my muse ! in many a rhythmic line. 
Gave I my offerings at thy sacred shrine ! 

(11) 



12 POEMS. 

In many a sonnet, fasliioned by tliine aid, 
Some new Dulcinea saw her charms portrayed ; 
O'er many a pun, in sportive numbers drest. 
My list'ning chum applauded with a zest ; 
To many a crade conception of the brain, 
Provoking mirthful, or satiric strain, 
Reserved from Fancy's evanescent throng — 
Thou gav'st a being, and a garb, in song. 

Remorseless years ! amid whose length'ning train, 

O'er the broad waste of time's extended plain, 

Close on your footsteps, in a concourse vast, 

Stalk the weird spectres of the fading Past ; 

Mark ye, how yonder, in despairing gloom, 

"What splendid hopes have found their early tomb ! 

See in those forms, with cypress wi-eaths entwined, 

What tearful mem'ries ye have left behind ! 

See, fallen prostrate with insensate clods. 

The crumbled relics of those household gods ! 

See brave resolves, begot in pomp and state, 

Consigned in silence to an early fate ; 

See grand beginnings vanish into air, — 

The things that were, and not the things that 

wear — 
See even Genius veil its sacred fire. 
Its flame, Toncherished, suffered to expire ; 



THE TRUE LIFE. 13 

See many a wild, yet beautiful idea, — 

Too transcendental for our mundane sphere, — 

Nipped at its budding, in a soul intent 

On notions coupled with their — ten per cent. ! 

To deal with facts ; — to banish earlier dreams ; 

To clutch the baubles which the world esteems ; 

To grasp the work-day, " practical" ideas. 

We enslave the thought, and dedicate the years ! 

In sharp pursuit of worldly fame, or pelf, 

Our first is bartered for our second self. 

Unhke, dissentient, when we join the two. 

Our life entire is monstrous to the view. 

No graceful outHne, no symmetric whole 

Attests the healthful progress of the soul. 

No pleasing fitness of the parts combined. 

Shows the true culture of th' immortal mind. 

So oft we note, in our maturer years, 

How faint a semblance of our youth appears. 

We cheat oui- nature of its first estate; 

Some powers we fetter ; some we stimulate. 

Some tastes we stifle, which the soul prefers, 

To please our clients, or our customers. 

Some light, mayhap, which we were bom to 

shed, 
We cloak and smother, for the sake of bread ; 



14 POEMS. 

"WTiile some lone talent, — singled out, perchance, 
The veriest creature of a circumstance, — 
"We task and torture to our being's end, 
Because, forsooth, it yields — a dividend ! 

Not so, the great, eternal Source of mind. 

Its education and its growth designed. 

To use not one, but all His gifts to man, 

Is to fulfill the wise creative plan. 

No vain appendage — no superfluous taste, 

No talent given for neglect or waste. 

Came from His hand, who graciously imbued 

Man with His essence, and pronounced him good. 

The dearest homage which the soul can show 

To its great Author, is, itself to know. 

Itself to cherish and develop here. 

As ripening only for a higher sphere. 

As but rehearsing on the stage of time, 

For that grand Drama — awful and subHme — 

When the vast Drop-scene shall be rolled away, 

The glorious Hereafter to display ! 

When Heaven's full orchestra their strain begin. 

And the Forever shall be ushered in ! 

The sure philosophy of life to leam. 
And then to practice, is our chief concern. 



TSE TRUE LIFE. 15 

Tlie wisest, happiest method to pursue ; 

To shun the false — to cultivate the true. 

Not all alike, in power, and skill, and grace, 

Hath the great God endowed the human race ;— 

Some, hfe's abstruser mysteries may sound, 

And tread the caverns of the deep profound ; 

Others, on Fancy's airy wing may fly 

To scenes unwitnessed by the ^-ulgar eye. 

Some, 'neath the lordly portals of the brain, 

Their royal visitants may entertain ; 

Guests, that from far ideal realms have come, 

To find with mortals a congenial home. 

Not all, ahke, in goodly shape, and fair, 

The tabernacle of the Soul prepare, 

Profuse with decoration — fitly wrought 

To wait th' indwelling of the new-born thought ; 

Yet 'tis no partial Hand that first outpours 

Upon our race these intellectual stores ; 

Nor hath thy fellow reason to avow 

Himself more blest, more fortunate, than thou. 

Each, in his ovm unique, pecuhar plan. 

Hath the beginnings of a perfect man. 

Nay, e'en the basest brother of our kind. 

In the recesses of his dormant mind. 

Some germs — all undeveloped — may behold. 

Which might have reproduced an hundred fold. 



16 POEMS. 

Blame tliou not Nature, but thy froward will, 
"Wlio fail'st a glorious mission to fulfill. 
To thine own self, and Nature's laws be true ; 
Keep life's great purpose in thy constant view ; 
Live less for Time, nor set such priceless store 
By paltry pebbles on the barren shore, 
But lift thy gaze, O mortal ! to descry 
The boundless ocean and the starry sky. 
Learn well the mysteries of thy first degree ; 
Conform what is, to that which is to be ; 
So, when thy brief apprenticeship shall end, 
Erom corner-stone and base thou may'st ascend ; 
In grand proportions may thy structure rise — 
Its lofty towers upreared against the skies — 
Till, master-builder, lastly thou shalt come 
To crown thy life-work with its lordly dome ! 

In the great reck'ning at the final day, 
When the recording angel shall display 
The grand sum-total ; and our life appears 
By thoughts computed — not by length of years — ■ 
That life the truest and the best may seem, 
"Which mortals scoffed at, as an idle dream. 
Perchance the dreamer, disenthralled, shall stand 
Preferred disciple, at his Lord's right hand ; 
While hover 'neath the empyrean skies, 
Souls of the thrifty, and the worldly-wise ! . 



THE TRUE LIFE. 17 

Thrice blest the pilgrim on Life's tliomy road, 

Which leads him onward to his long abode, 

Who, while he fails not duly to bestow 

A just attention to affairs below. 

Regards these only at their real worth, 

Nor barters heaven for a patch of earth. 

Who ne'er forgets, amid his round of toil, 

How unsubstantial is this mortal coil. 

With ready will, to earn his bread attends, 

But ne'er confounds life's means with life's great ends. 

Who deems it not man's paramount pursuit 

To build a factory, or to make a boot ; 

Nor thinks his duty hath been wholly done, 

Who leaves a fortune to his darhng son. 

Who loves to search within his storied mind, 

Some sparkling jewel of a thought to find. 

Who keeps some inner chamber of the heart 

From life's concerns and cankering ills apart, 

Where, oft withdrawing, weary and depressed, 

His spirit finds a solace, and a rest. 

Who glads the ear with music, and the eye 

With forms of beauty loves to gratify. 

Who walks with sages that have gone before. 

And treads a measure with the bards of yore. 

Wlio loves at times in cheerful way to spend 

A social evening with a pleasant friend. 



18 POEMS. 

Who prizes books, and sedulously heeds 
The word of truth he garners as he reads. 
Loves a bright hearth, with happy faces round ; 
A family board, with wholesome plenty crowned ; 
Loves to do alms ; promotes each noble cause ; 
Communes with nature, and reveres her laws ; 
Free from the touch of time's corroding tooth, 
Learns the choice secret of eternal youth ; 
Learns to subdue each rebel passion's rage. 
And glides from manhood to serene old age. 
In fine, who lives a life of generous aim ; 
Lives not alone for power, or wealth, or fame ; 
Lives to develop as a perfect whole 
The various traits that constitute the soul ; 
So, at the harvest-time, himself to yield 
A sheaf, well ripened, in the Master's field. 

I know, the world, time-servient, disagrees 
With vain ideas and heresies like these ; 
I know full well what sages will dissent 
From such a strain of idle sentiment ; 
I know the proverbs of the worldly-wise, 
What plans of thought and action they advise ; 
How small the orbit, how confined the groove. 
Within whose hmits they exhort to move ; 
But I believe, the two extremes between, 
Our better sense may find the golden mean. 



THE TRUE LIFE. 19 

That while avoiding a contracted sphere, 
Which quite absorbs us in its one idea ; 
And while, with hke disfavor, we disown 
The jack-at-all-trades, or the lazy drone ; 
A liberal course our steps may still pursue. 
To human kind, and human nature, true. 

Poor slave of Mammon ! though thy sordid brain 
Be steeped with lust of pleasure or of gain ; 
Within thy bosom thou may'st yet behold 
A wealth more precious than thy heaps of 

gold. 
A gem so brilhant, it can far outshine 
The choicest product of Golconda's mine. 
A vital spark from the celestial flame, 
Which now and ever must exist the same. 
It is thy soul ; to slavish bondage doomed — 
Nay, 'tis thyseK, O man ! thou has entombed ! 
See with what layers of avarice and of guilt. 
Thine own dark sepulchre thyself hast built ! 
See how thy purer hopes and joys have fled 
To habitations of the early dead ! 
See life's sweet graces, its emotions kind, 
The holy ties that love and friendship bind ; 
Th' inspiring glories of creation, — all 
Shut out and banished from ihj prison wall ! 



20 POEMS. 

See, one by one, tlie harsh obstructions roll 

Before the windows of thy buried soul ! 

One opening still admits its ghostly light, 

To show the ruin, to appal the sight ; — 

Ah ! 'tis thy faithful memory ! would' st thou gaze 

Out from thy dungeon at those earlier days ? 

One glance, remorseful, sorrowing, wouldst thou 

cast 
Along the mournful vista of the past? 
See then thy childhood, with its sports beguiled ; 
By selfish care and avarice undeiiled ; 
Its golden moments, pure and unalloyed, 
In guileless thoughts and gentle deeds employed. 
See thy bark launched on youth's enticing stream, 
"Whose ripples glisten 'neath the morning beam ; 
See the glad banks in vernal freshness bloom. 
And flowers that breathe a ravisliing perfume ; 
"While Hope — the siren — to the voyager sings. 
And beck'ning onward, waves her shining wings. 

Well might thy vision seek to linger there, 

Amid a scene so bright, so passing fair ! 

Fain wouldst thou deem the picture all complete, — 

No mortal life could hail a dawn more sweet, — 

But look ! how soon the swelling stream runs high, 

The storm-king threatens in the angry sky ; 



* THE TRUE LIFE. 21 

The troubled waves their cheerless banks divide, 
Wliile the sad Hours stand up on either side, 
To tell the number of thy past misdeeds, 
Like hooded friars, counting o'er their beads ! 

Could we unlock their chambers, and disclose 
In human hearts, their multitude of woes ; 
Could we but half the agonies reveal. 
Which placid brows and studied smiles conceal ; 
Our souls would o^\ti the picture strangely true, 
The faithful Muse would offer to the view. 
Alas ! how many a wreck in human mould. 
Consumed with passion or the lust of gold. 
Lives only to pervert creative plan, 
And dies, the shameful counterfeit of man ! 
Our educations, and the vicious rules, 
Wliich so obtain in Fashion's latest schools ; 
The standards of our modern excellence. 
The praise accorded unto base pretence ; 
The sycophantic homage often shown 
Toward foppish idiots for the wealth they own ; 
The estimate of man by what is his ; 
By what he has, and not by what he is ; 
That " aristocracy," which seeks to find 
The wealth of purse, and not the wealth of 
mind ; 



22 POEMS. - 

Which greets plain worth with superciHous laugh, 

But fawns obsequious round a golden calf ; 

That eager thirst for gold, which scruples not 

At means unworthy, so it may be got ; 

Which buries all else in a common gTave, 

And grudges time to grasp, and hoard, and save ; 

These, with their kindred causes, serve to bind 

And dwarf the nobler impulses of mind. 

These make our hfe a disproportioned whole, 

And thwart the expectations of the soul. 

Yet he who rashly yentui-es to assail 

The social wrongs and vices which prevail, 

Is deemed a mad fanatic, or a fool. 

Whose verdant notions should be sent to school. 

'Tis little sympathy the world bestows 

On him who seeks its follies to expose ; 

And that enthusiast, who with ardor warm, 

Plants, in his dreams, the standard of reform ; 

Who fondly thinks to part the clouds away. 

And hail the dawn of the millennial day. 

May well take heed, lest he erelong shall be 

At Mammon's shrine, himself a votary. 

For so the world, with its mysterious charms, 

Our earlier impulse and intent disarms, 

That he who first with brave assurance vows 

Mankind's amelioration to espouse, 



THE TRUE LIFE, 23 

Or, less combative, hopes to keej) aloof, 
And shun the rabble 'neath a quiet roof. 
Little by Httle, yields him to the tide. 
And downward floats, the motley crew beside. 
Thus, in his progress, proves the adage true, — 
" Dwellers at Eome must do as Romans do ! " 
So fares the world ; — so, none of Adam's seed ; — 
No rank, profession, school, position, creed. 
Escapes from Mammon's avaricious clutch. 
Or shuns his all-contaminating touch. 
Thus, in one scale, untrue, but still obeyed, 
Actions and motives everywhere are weighed. 
By one false test, incessantly applied, 
Man's daily conduct is discussed and tried. 

All-potent Mammon ! like a monarch throned. 
O'er the broad earth thy sovereign power is 

owned ! 
And — strange to tell — where freedom vaunteth most. 
And counts her empii-e a peculiar boast — 
There Mammon holds his most distinguished court, 
Wliere willing subjects faithfully resort. 
There, abject mortals, servient 'neath his nod, 
Acknowledge him their ruler and their god. 
There, too, he finds, to guard his regal state, 
On every hand a zealous advocate. 



24 POEMS. I 

j 

As some ricli rogue, liis knaveries to liide, j 

Keeps able counsel ever at his side, ; 

Betained, their skill and eloquence to lend, I 
Theu' cHent's fame and fortune to defend ; 
To blink the point, and make " His Honor " 

see ; 
Vast odds 'twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee ; — 

So Mammon lacks not, in these latter days, | 

A host of minions who can chant his praise, I 

Extol his glories, magnify his fame, i 

And fling the cloak of custom o'er his shame. ^ 

And so the Press, whose once united tone j 

Might drive each despot from his lawless throne ; ; 

Whose voice, concordant for the truth and right, \ 

The world might rescue from its moral blight — 
Perv^erts its power ; and busily repeats i 

The idle talk and jabber of the streets. | 

Panders to passion, and to morbid taste ; I 

Observes the current, and with eager haste - 

Adopts the tenets of the winning side. 
And floats conspicuous with the rushing tide. 
Confined by ties of party, or of sect, 
The general weal it cares not to effect ; 
Of demagogues and knaves the pUant tool, 
And selfish interest its guiding rule, 



THE TRUE LIFE. 25 

It aims the pubKc ear to tickle well, 
And make the paper, or the volume, sell. 

Nay, e'en the Pulpit — such is Mammon's power — 
Shapes oft its tenets to the passing hour ; 
Its doctrine moulds to suit the hearers' views, 
And, like a mirror, must reflect the pews. 
Here, where we look for Truth's peculiar source — 
Where thought from time should hold its brief di- 
vorce ; 
Whither approaching, with a reverent awe, 
To hear God's word, and learn his sacred law. 
The world's concerns and cares should ne'er intrude, 
But hearts should flow with love and gratitude ; 
Where all should meet — high, humble, rich and poor, 
And leave their false distinctions at the door ; — 
As worms, alike predestined, and for whom 
The same gi^eat Leveler opens wide the tomb ; — 
See, even here, with patronizing smile, 
How Mammon, proud and pompous, treads the aisle ! 
And sits quiescent, with a slumberous eye, 
While Reverend Cream Cheese hums a lullaby. 
Here Fashion's votaries, in a vast array. 
Convene to hold their weekly gala-day ; 
And while the sinners for forgiveness sue. 
Their hats and flounces pass in sharp review ! 



26 POEMS. 

Go search through Christendom where'er we may, 

We witness Mammon's universal sway. 

In each department of our social state, 

He stamps his impress with a crushing weight ; 

And leads his subjects passively along, 

A blinded duped, infatuated throng ! 

All ! when will mortals from their folhes turn, 

The simple theory of life to learn ? 

"With faithful vision see and own a truth. 

Which nature shows us in our early youth ; 

Begard life only for its nobler ends. 

And live as brothers, and as generous friends ; 

As fellow-travelers toward that common bourne, 

From whose mysterious confines none return. 

My hope is slender — but I can conceive 

How man his social errors might retrieve ; 

Pursue a course by selfish care unvexed, 

And so spend this life as t' insure the next. 

I can conceive a social state, wherein 

The strifes, the bickerings, the discordant din, 

Insane excitements, mutual distrusts, 

Unholy passions and unbridled lusts, — 

Might all be banished from our midst away. 

And Beason hold her kind and gentle sway. 

" There is no joy but calm, the spirit sings. 

Why should we toil, the roof and crown of things ! " 



THE TRUE LIFE. 27 

Could we our possibilities but see, 

How near a Heaven this earth of ours might be ! 

Behold its glories^ lavishly outspread 

Around us, and beneath, and overhead ! 

Mark how, as myriad eyes, whose glance is love. 

The stars smile down upon us from above ; 

And softly close their eyelids, one by one, 

As through the startled ether soars the sun ; 

His coursers guiding o'er the vast highway, 

That spans from East to West, the realms of Day ! 

See, o'er the face of this terrestrial ball, — 

In hill, and vale, and lake, and waterfall ; 

In fountain, river, rill and ocean wave ; 

In mountain-dome, and hoary chff and cave ; 

In tree and shrub,— in foliage and in flower ; 

In shady grove, and in sequestered bower ; 

In rolling prauies, and in grassy glades. 

What wondrous beauty everything pervades ! 

Then see, responsive to a moderate toil. 

How Plenty leaps out from the teeming soil ! 

How Earth from out her rich, exliaustless stores. 

Yields up her minerals and her shining ores ;— 

Her varied products, neither sparse nor few, 

Enough for comfort and for luxury too. 

Kind Nature meant not that a single one 

Of all her children, 'neath her generous sun, 



28 POEMS. 

Should starve ; or suffer from the galling chain, 
Which Want imposes in its cruel reign ; 
While some proud neighbor, with a wealth untold, 
Should hoard his treasures of superfluous gold — 
The fruit of speculation, out of which 
He woke some morning to be labeled " rich " — 
'Twas never meant that some should pampered be, 
While others feel the pinch of poverty ; 
That mother Earth, upon her fruitful breast, 
Should surfeit half her babes, and starve the 
rest ! 

Methinks some strange perversion hath been wrought 

From that original creative Thought, 

Which turned to shape in Earth, and gave control 

To Man, as lord and ruler of the whole. 

A strange perversion, which, increasing, through 

The lapse of ages since the world was new, 

Hath come to make of this om^ social Hfe, 

A scene of jealous and discordant strife ; 

To make our race to false restraints conform, 

And one worm lord it o'er his fellow- worm. 

This man, to-day, exults in pride and power, 

Pet child of fate, and hero of the hour. 

With cool disdain he treats the humble j)oor, 

Who turn, awe-stricken, from the rich man's door. 



THE TRUE LIFE. 29 j 

But mark how Fortune with its fickle glow, 

Loves to dispense alternate weal and woe. 

Another generation turns the scale ; ■ 

The poor grow rich ; the wealthy bankers fail ; j 

And they, whose fathers, only yesterday, ! 

With golden sceptre held a potent sway, \ 

Now in their turn pursue the walks of toil, 

"While beggars' offspring occupy the soil. \ 

Our life's a see-saw, marked with ups and 

downs ; i 

A curious mixture, both of smiles and frowns ; \ 

A treacherous sea, whose surface, calm to-day, | 

Yawns wide to-morrow to engulph its prey. ! 

And yet, strange man ! unschooled through all the i 

years, ] 

Along whose course life's vanity appears, \ 

The will-o'-wisp of fortune still pursues, 1 

The self same chase persistently renews. j 

Lives, not to gather that substantial good, j 

Which shall go with him o'er the Stygian flood ; I 

Not those possessions, which shall last subHme, • 

Beyond the empire and the waste of time : j 

Not that ripe soul, which, rising o'er the sod, \ 

In full perfection shall ascend to God ; i 

But such mere baubles as the hour affords, '> 
With tkeless zeal and industry, he hoards ; 



30 POEMS. 

Pursues each worthless phantom as it flies ; 
And so toils on, till that last enterprise 
Of getting buried, claims the shrinking thought, 
And one word tells his simple record — " Nought !" 

If half the hours we toil were set apart 

For generous culture of the mind and heart ; 

If, while sojourning on time's transient shore, 

"We trifled less, and thought and felt the more ; 

If all united with an equal zeal 

In temporal duties for the common weal ; 

And not as now, one labored to excess, 

While his rich brother lolled in idleness ; 

If all reserved, from daily cares aside, 

An ample leisure, wisely occupied ; 

The world, methinks, would still move on apace. 

And healthier progress would attend the race. 

Our art, and science, and inventive sldll ; 

The loom, the sledge, the plow-share and the 

mill. 
The calls of industry on land and main. 
Would still invoke their patrons not in vain. 
Then most, I ween, of progress we should find 
In the rich growth and onward march of mind ; 
In the rare studies which so well impart 
The choicest graces to the human heart \ 



THE TRUE LIFK 31 

In the sweet social pleasures, kindly giyen 

As earthly foretastes of the joys of Heaven. 

A life more real, earnest, manly, free, 

This life ideal we should find to be. 

Peace, Uke a river, through our midst would 

flow, 
And earth become a paradise below. 
The same great Power that overruleth aU ; 
Fashions the orbs, and notes the sparrow's fall ; 
That bids us for the morrow take no thought. 
But seize the boon the present hour hath brought ; 
For man's necessities would still dispense 
The boundless favors of Omnipotence. 
And if, perchance, each temporal estate 
Should yield its increase at a slower rate ;- 
If unto each, with competence content. 
His capital should yield a less per cent ; 
If sea and continent should greet our eyes 
With fewer fruits of worldly enterprise : 
Yet if, instead, to bless the human race. 
More thought, more love, and charity had place ; 
If all within this mighty brotherhood 
Preferred the lasting to the transient good ; 
Such would be wisdom's part ; and we might 

then 
Have poorer fabrics, but have better men. 



32 POEMS. 

There is wlio liatli not, yet hatli wealth untold — 
Better than rubies, or than shining gold. 
There is who hath, and yet so poor is he. 
No words can show his depth of poverty. 
There is a solid wealth, which hath no end, 
"Which pays its dividends though banks sus- 
pend ; 
And whose possessor, though a peasant's son, 
Consorts with nobles, and himself is one. 
Give mo this wealth, and though in humble 

sphere 
I keep my calling while I sojourn here ; 
Yet not the gold of Ophir, nor the gems 
From India's cave, nor royal diadems 
Can buy the passport I shall bear with mo, 
To earth's and heaven's " best society." 
There is a sweet refreshment in the thought 
Of dignity too j^recious to be bought. 
There is a badge of manhood, whoso owns. 
May scorn distinctions, and look down on thrones ; 
Despise conventional decrees and rules. 
And bear complacently the sneers of fools. 
The man who entertains within his breast 
A ducal Soul, as an abiding guest. 
Accounts no honor paramount to that : 
He is your only true aristocrat. 



THE TRUE LIFE. 33 

All tilings are his ; liis park is tlie whole land ; ^^ 
His bath the sea, his walk the ocean strand ; 
The forests and the rivers he shall o^ti ; 
The mountain summit is his loft}^ throne ; 
He shall possess, where, in their little day, 
Others as tenants, and as boarders, stay. 
He shall be lord of land, and sea, and air ; 
Where e'er snow falls, or water flows, or where 
The birds take joyous wing the dawn to greet ; 
Where day and night in sombre twilight meet ; 
Where e'er the heaven is hung with cloudy forms, 
Or sown with stars, or terrible with storms ; 
Where e'er are outlets into space above ; 
Where e'er is clanger, wonder, awe, or love ; 
There sheddeth beauty, plenteous as the rain. 
For him, proud monarch of the vast domain. 
Each voice, for him, shall have a meaning sound ; 
And though he walk the sj)acious earth around ; 
He shall discover in each proffered boon, 
Nothing ignoble, or inopportune. 

Cease now, my muse, thy unaccustomed strain. 
And seek thine old retirement once again. 



* This, and the following nineteen lines, are a paraphrase of 
an extract from R. W. Emerson's Essay, '' The Poet- 



34 POEMS. 

If thou lias uttered but one earnest word, 
These list'nmg friends have treasured as they heard ; 
If one true senthnent thou hast expressed, 
Which finds an answering echo in each breast ; 
Then well hast thou performed the pleasing task. 
And vouchsafed all thy humble bard could ask. 

S. B. S. 



MUSIC. 35 



MUSIC. 



There's music in the ^^dnds : 
Whetlier they whisper gently thro' the trees, 
Or sweep tempestuous across the seas, 
Or waft sweet perfumes in the evening breeze ; 

There's music in the winds. 

There's music in the streams : 
That break their waters down the craggy steep, 
Or o'er the shining pebbles gaily leap, 
Or seaward roll, in channels broad and deep ; — 

There's music in the streams. 

There's music in the fields : 
The verdant meads that stretch across the plain. 
The sloping hill-side, orchard, pasture, lane. 
The crops of yellow corn and waving grain ; 

There's music in the fields. 

There's music in the woods : 
The wildernesses where the fleet hind roves. 
The sighing pine-cliffs and the vocal groves. 
Where bird-choirs hymn their praises, plaints, and 
loves ; — 

There's music in the woods. 



36 POEMS. 

There's music in the sea : ■ 

The diapason of old Ocean's roar, j 

-I 
"Whose wild waves in perpetual encore j 

Eehearse their glad Te Deum evermore ; — j 

There's music in the sea. < 

There's music in the storms : j 

That run their courses over heaven's highway, I 

And turn the day to night — the night to day ; 
Wliose thunders rattle, and whose lightnings play ; — - 

There's music in the storms. \ 

There's music in the stars : { 

That fair Astarte's queenly robes adorn ; ; 

That sang together at creation's morn, \ 

When, at Jehovah's mandate. Earth was born ; — | 

There's music in the stars. 

There's music through the whole 
Of Nature's realm ; aroimd, beneath, above ; 
"Where e'er our eyes we turn — where e'er we rove ; — 
But sweetest of all music far, is Love : j 

The music of the soul ! j 

S. B. S. i 



THE IBBETEIEVABLE. 37 



THE lERETEIEYABLE. 

The sun is falling in the west ; 

His last beams cut the billow's crest, 

Snow-white with the glistening foam ; 
For the choicest waters are filtered up 
To the rolling brim of old Neptune's cup, 

As the sea-bh'd's welcome home ; 
And the Fleet- Wing's sails are gaily drest 
With the rainbow tints, so fondly prest 

On the gracefully swelling dome. 

The grand old clouds drawn closely round, 
Present the Day-king, enthroned and crowned. 

In his fullest glory dying ; 
And to travel that beautiful silver road 
To the golden gate of my Lord's abode, 

The spirit is sorrowfully sighing ! 

4f * -K- ^ 

The sun is set ; his work is done ; 
And the timid moon has just begun 

To cast her shadows, thin and pale. 
As I take my watch on the gallant deck, 
To descry the distant loom or speck. 

That betokens land or sail. 



38 POEMS. \ 

Now the sea nms high, and the sweeping blast ! 

"With its angry stroke sways the mizzen-mast ; ; 

Every timber crackles sharp ; ^ 
And hark ! on the quiyering shroud and stay, 
Old Boreas' icy fingers play 

In mournful numbers, and numbers gay ; I 

list to the sailor's harp ! \ 

i 

1 welcome the hour, so fit for thought I 

On what the past with its woes has wrought ; * 

I mark — with what grief ! — how awfully fraught ; 

Was the simplest word and deed ; ; 

Ay, the crisis acts of my life are known i 
From the lowHest impulse and hope to have grown — 
In a heedless hour was widely strown , \ 

The poisonous, blasting seed. « 

"i 

But no ! this night I will banish care,— ' 

The heavens above are transcendently fair, — 

My soul, like the orbs that are ghttering there 

Above the troublous waves, \ 

That once and now against me beat, , 

Shall rise, and gaze, but only greet j 

The pleasant sea, the temperate sheet ; 

Alone the forms and faces meet 

Which in old times did seem so sweet, 

That now I scarcely dare repeat, — ] 



THE IBRETBIEVABLK 39 

" Some sleep ! I know the vacant seat ! 
I've seen the grass-grown graves ! " 

From earhest hours my life I trace ; 
And halting memory's rapid pace, — 
I linger round each cherished place ; 
I kiss each bending, tearful face ; — 

Low, soothing, deep-breathed peace. 
I mind me of the gladsome child 
On whom a tender mother smiled ; 
A boy by purest sports beguiled ; 
Whose heart, uncankered, undenled, 

From Faith knew no release. 

I wake. " O Heaven ! " I almost scream — 
" Prolong this soul-enrapturing dream ! 
What I have been, but let me seem! 
At the first fountains of Time's stream, 
To catch a single passing beam 

Of Innocency, let me he ! " 
Like a haK-drowned wretch I rise, 
And far beyond the gathering skies, 
A cruel fiend returns my cries ; 
My God the craved boon denies ; 
I gasp with downcast, tearful eyes, 

" Would God that I could die !" 



\ 



40 POEMS. 

I never more shall dare contrast 
The present woe with the lovely past, 
Mj doom is sealed ; the die is cast ; 
I cannot differ from the last. 
For hark ! Hear the heavy death-bells toll ! 
And look ! How the dead possibilities roll 
In a long dark line to the Judgment goal ! 
This day, this hour with judgments is foal ; 
But the joys of my youth shed the gloom of my soul ! 

C. A. S. 

FiiEETwiNG, at Sea, off Cape \ 
Horn, September 6, 1856. S 



A VALENTINK ^\ 



A VALENTINE. 

Lady, 'twas on this day, 
As old traditions say, 

That Love was born. 
It was a gladsome birth, 
Fit cause for joy and mirth 
Among the sons of Earth — 

A race forlorn. 

On this, his natal day, 

Young Cupid — bhthe and gay — 

His pastime takes. 
The cause of Love he fights ; 
Fond hearts in bliss unites ; 
The torch of Hymen Kghts ; 

Its flame awakes. 

His well-directed dart 

Has pierced me ; and my heart 

Beats tremulous. 
O, Lady, may thine own 
Beat in sweet unison, 
And Love's pure flame alone 

Be born in us ! 

S. B. S. 



42 POEMS. 



VALENTINE— TO L 



I WISH that I could say to you 
The words that would convey to you 

The measure of my love ; 
But language isn't strong enough, 
Nor are our meetings long enough, 
Nor are there strains of song enough 

Its height and depth to prove. 

'Tis that which causeth pain for me ; 
'Tis so entirely vain for me 

To utter all I feel ; 
And I am conscious all the while, 
As we the charming hours beguile, 
How somewhat doubtingly you smile 

At what I can't reveal. 

O, I am sure, that if you knew, 

And read my inmost feehngs through. 

You could but yield return 
Of love for love ; which, come what will. 
Through all the future can but thrill 
This heart ; and on its altars still, 

Forevermore shall bum I 

S. B. S. 



OyE VALENTINE'S NIGHT. 43 



ONE VALENTINE'S NIGHT. 

What long ago I might have read — 

Had fortified myself to know — 
So long the waiting deadened dread, 

And friendship's hopes began to grow — 

But yesternight, while conning o'er 

A journal from the dear old place, 
I saw — what I had skipped before — 

The grieving tidings, face to face ! 

I'd held the paper as a screen 

Against the blazing on the hearth ; 

But when I saw what was between — - 
Two aged deaths and one small birth — 

My hands dropped with a nerveless grasp ; 

I stared into the very flame ; 
Then wonder if my crimson cheeks 

"Were scorched with fire or flushed with shame. 

The desert winds blow in a moan ! 

The good flag's halliards whip the staff ;— 
The one — the music of a groan,— 

And one, the mocking of a laugh. 



44 POEMS. 

Let the derisive sounds concert 

Suggestive, tantalizing chants ; 
In pauses we may introvert, 

And spring a strength from Nature's taunts. 

Out of a sadness may we bring 
A nameless sweetness, which belongs 

To olden times, and takes the sting 
From sighs and semblances of wrongs. 

Though much has passed to leave regret, 
Some cherished memories remain ; 

The woe I brave or can forget : 

Blow, dreary winds, across the plain ! 

C. A. S. 

Fort Chuechill, Nev. Tee., J 
February 14, 1864. f 



AFTER A LOVER'S QUARREL. 45 

AFTER A LOVER'S QUARREL. 

On her brow, clouds of anger were blended, 

While sorrow sat heavy on mine ; 
In a mad moment I had offended, 

And she bade me depart from her shrine ; — 
A shrine I so fondly had knelt at, 

And decked ^\dth my darlingest flowers ; 
A shrine I in rapture had dwelt at, 

Li my life's most enrapturing hours. 

And so I go forth, sad and lonely,— 

Tormenting regret in my soul ; — 
Sweet fruit turned to ashes ; and only 

A wretchedness passing control. 
And so all my path seems o'ershaded. 

And the saddest of lessons I learn ; 
And I mourn with a conscience upbraided, 

Lost joys that may never retuin. 

One hope I shall timidly cherish ; — 

It is in her bosom to find 
A heart, which, though love itself perish, 

Can never be other than kind : 
A heart so forgiving and tender, 

No hate can endure there long while. 
O, Heaven, from all ill defend her ! 

O God ! change her frown to a smile ! — S. B. S. 



46 POEMS. 



ODE; 

SUNG AT roUBTH OF JULY CELEBRATION, GREAT BAE- 
EINGTON, MASS., JULY 4:TH, 1850. 

(AiK : — "America.") 

With joy we celebrate 

This day, from which we date 

Our Nation's birth ; 
Day when that patriot band 
For freedom took their stand, 
And made Columbia's land 

The pride of earth. 

This day, let East and West, 
With equal favors blest, 

Sing freedom's song ; 
Let North and South, to-day. 
Cast all their strife away. 
And, joined in glad array. 

The strain prolong. 

Stayed be the impious hands 
That seek to hurl the brands 

Of discord round ; 
Still let our rallying cry 
Of " Union " rise on high^- 



ODE, - 47 

Till regions far and nigh 
Shall catch the sound. 

God ! 'neath whose watchful eye, 
All things in earth and sky 

Fulfill their end ; 
Guide Thou our Ship of State 
Secure through Peril's strait ; 
Still grant propitious fate, 

And still defend ! 

So shall its towering form, 
Unscathed through wind and storm 

Ride on its way ; 
Our favored land shall be 
The home of liberty ; 
Her sons shall worsliij) Thee^ 

And Thee obey. 

S. B. S. 



4:8 POEMS. 



WHY I WEEP. 

I WEEP as I look on thee, obdurate fair one, 
So lavisli of smiles, and so charming to view ; 
So ready in meshes of love to ensnare one, 
And leave him heart-broken, to find thee untrue. 

I weep as I think the bright dreams of to-day 
Must give place to regretful awak'ning to-morrow ; 
That these pleasure-wing'd moments so soon must 

away, 
And the simshine of love be o'erclouded with 

sorrow. 

I weep as I think that the heart I so prize 

Is reserved for some other, more favored, more 

blest ; 
That some other shall bask in the light of those 

eyes. 
Of those heavenly smiles for a lifetime possessed. 

So, whenever henceforth thou beholdest me weeping, 
O think of the heart that implores to be thine ; 
Of the tender a£fections consigned to thy keeping, 
And the pure vows I fain would present at thy 
shrine. 



WHY I WEEP. 4.9 

And, whenever thy 'kerchief to mine waves reply, 
And thine eyes beam upon me Hke beams of the 

sun, 
I will shed one more tear, I will heave one more 

sigh. 
For I feel thou art jesting, and only in fun. 

S. B. S. 



50 POEMS. \ 

VALENTINE. i 

Cruel one ! it's hardly fair \ 

Thus to steal one's heart, I say I j 

'Tis a treasure quite too rare j 

To be wrested thus away. ', 

Have some mercy, pr'ythee, do I '\ 

And the stolen heart restore. ; 

Henceforth, then, I promise you, 
I'll expose myself no more. 

Or, if you should think it best, 

In return to give me thine ; ; 

So we'll let the matter rest, 

I'll take yours, and you keep mine. • 

Or, (I'm not disposed to falter, 

Since this mischief is begun.) ] 

Drawing near to Hymen's altar, 

Let us join them both in one ! 

S. B. S. I 



A SONG FOB TEE BOTR 51 



A SONG FOE THE BOYS. 

HuERA boys ! Life's conflict is opening before us ; 

With many a foe to be valiantly met ; 

Let our banner be raised, let it proudly wave 

o'er us; 
With firm hearts and true, we'll be conquerors 

yet! 

Press on without fear,— all forebodings dispelled, 
By doubts undismayed, nor by menaces awed ; — 
Press on, nor let action, nor struggle be quelled, 
While Error and Vice are seen stalking abroad. 

High stations of honor are waiting us now ; 

Proud triumphs, and lasting rewards may be 

ours; 
And anon, shall adorn each victorious brow 
The evergreen wreath, decked with Fame's fairest 

flowers. 

Our fathers before us fought nobly and well ; 
Be it ours to continue what they have begun ; 
So that history's page alike proudly may tell 
Of the patriot sire, and the patriot son. 



52 POEMS. 

Then let's on to the strife, boys ! our banners un- 
furled,— 

Our weapons unsheathed, and our bright armor on ; 

Let our watch- word be truth ; let our field be the 
world, 

In the triumph of right be the victory won ! 

S. B. S. 



IRELAND'S OPPORTUNITY, 53 

IRELAND'S OPPORTUNITY. 

A Yankee's addkess to the fenians. 

How LONG have ye cherished for Erin, in vain. 
The hope to behold her a nation again ? 
How long on her neck is the Britisher's heel ? 
How long has his mocking returned her appeal ? 

Lo ! now is the day-spring, ye pris'ners of Hope ! 
The strength of your arms with the tyrants may 

cope; 
For the vows of our land with this promise are 

thrHled : 
The woe-time of Erin is nearly fulfilled. 

When the tocsin of war from our brothers went forth, 
And the patriots poured from their homes in the 

North ; 
'Mong the first in the line, with their Banner of 

Green, 
Were the boys who court-martialed the son of a 

Queen. 

And on the first field that our soldiers contest — 
Undisciplined, though of the bravest and best — 



54 POEMS. 

Waving far in the van, lone in triumph was seen, 
By the Flag of our Country, that banner of 
Green ! 

From Hatteras Inlet to Lexington's streams, 
The Ensign of Erin exultingly gleams ; 
At Yicksburg and Hudson 'tis dauntless unfurled, 
Up the cloud-circled mountain resistlessly hurled I 

In Sherman's grand marching it heads a brigade ; 
In skirmish or battle, manoeuvre or raid ; 
From Generals commanding, to privates in file, 
You may number the sons of the Emerald Isle ! 

Shall we fail to remember, now Peace has re- 
turned. 

Their fame in our vict'ries so vaHantly earned ? 

Shall we fail to remember ''Neutrality's Queen," 

By supporting the yeomen now "wearing the 
green ?" 

Oh, no! Speed the time when the Briton must 
yield 

To Fenian and Yankee the freedom-lit field ! 

When his plunder our Nation will make him dis- 
gorge. 

Or tear from his bunting the cross of St. George ! 



IBELAmyS OPPORTUNJTT. 55 

And when from our Navy each ocean shall be 

To the commerce of England a bottomless sea : 

As our Flag from the spankers of frigates are seen, 

While the mast flies the Harp-blazoned Banner of 

Green ! 

C.A.S. 

Virginia Ciry. Nov. 23. 1865. 



56 POEMS. 

TO HELEN. 

Now pr'ythee, dear Nell, 

Don't affect sucli a swell, 
Nor take on in such terrible fashion : 

I've told you before, 

That it vexes me sore. 
When I see a sweet face in a passion. 

I think it's too bad, 

You should go and get mad. 

And that, too, in despite of my coaxing — 
I really supposed, 
When at first you disclosed 

So much anger, you only were hoaxing. 

But be this as it may : 

If it be as you say — 
And I certainly hav'n't a doubt of it — 

I mean to hold fast 

To the fun that is past, 
And I know that you can't cheat me out of it. 

Until life's sun is set, 
I shall never forget 
How with love we were, both of us, dying : 



TO HELEN. 57 

How I vowed to be true, 
And, sweet rogue, so did you. 
And we knew all the time each was ! ! ! 

So, Nelly, good-bye ! 

Do not squander a sigh. 
Nor in sad melancholy grow thinner : 

For how shameful 'twould be, 

If you did so for me, 
Such a vile, irreclaimable sinner ! 

Now, don't fling away 

A poor " minstrel's last lay," 
But remember to what cause you owe it ; 

But for this fuss alone. 

You might never have known 
That your " dearest of friends " was a poet. 

S. B. S. 



68 POEMS. 



THE FALL OF THE TEAE. 

The blighted flower, the rustling leaf, 
The mournful winds that round us sigh, 

Are tokens all of Nature's grief, 
That summer's past, and winter nigh. 

The King of Day, so bright erewhile, 
From his high station looking down, 

Seems hardly to vouchsafe a smile. 
But sends aslant a sullen frown. 

To kindlier cHmes the timid bird 
Hies with his fond and gentle mate ; 

No longer is their warbling heard. 
But all is drear and desolate ! 

So dies the year ! its death how sad ! 

But 'tis not sadness of despair ; 
For spring again the earth shall glad, 

Nature her robes of green shall wear. 

So, though our Hfe must pass away. 

While time speeds on with restless wing ; 

Our souls shall hail a brighter day, 
And flourish in eternal spring. 

S. B. S. 



HOPE. 59 



HOPE. 



Wheke does lie live who cries " No lack ; " 

Who lives not lacking all ? 
Who sends his faithful memory searching back, 

And ferrets out a hope that he may call 
In very truth, one fully met ? 

A yearning with a trust, 
Chaste, dignified, high set, — 

Else 'twere no hope, but lust. 

We never have our true desu-es ; 

We hardly search aright ; 
Too soon appreciative sense expires ; 

The circumstance is tardier than the right. 
We have no answers, but in darkness grope. 

Life may be, should be, but a single hope ; 
For who but God of Heaven can furnish scope ? 

C. A. S. 



60 POEMS. 



LINES WKITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 

Theke's a strange, unwonted feeling; thoughts of 

olden time revealing, 
O'er my spirit softly stealing, hke a magic-woven 

spell ; 
'Tis a feeling half of gladness, tho' 'tis deeply tinged 

with sadness, — 
With a melancholy sadness, as I speak the word 

" farewell," 
And thy voice is heard to echo back the thrilling 

word " farewell ! " 

Thy remembrance I shall treasure with a sentiment 
of pleasure. 
With an unbeclouded pleasure, until time with me 
shall end ; 
For, embalmed in recollection, there will be the 
sweet reflection. 
That in undisguised affection, thou hast ever been 

a friend ; 
In my joy and in my sorrow, thou hast ever been 
a friend. 

Fare thee well ! tho' fate may sever, friendship's flame 
shall last forever, 



LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALB UM. 61 

Burning on and burning ever, while its incense 
rises high ; 
Till at last, when life is ending, angel voices sweetly 
blending, — 
All harmoniously blending, — thou art welcomed 

to the sky. 
And thou hast thy home forever — aye, forever — in 
the sky ! 

S. B. S. 



62 POEMS. 

TO A LADY 

ON RECEIVING A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS. 

Last eve, as I strayed, to my wondering view 

A fairy appeared, as at times fairies do : 

From some bright world afar, to this dark one of 

ours, 
She had trippingly come, with a handful of flowers, 
As fair as could blossom in valley or grove, 
All speaking one language — the language of love; 
And while I stood rapt, such a vision to see. 
She blushingly smiled, and she gave them to me. 

There were red and white roses, in bud and in 

bloom. 
Which vied in exhaling their choicest perfume ; 
And a sweet little pink showed its face here and 

there. 
As it breathed out its life on the soft evening air. 
AU these lent their fragrance, and others beside. 
And the whole in a bunch with blue ribbon were 

tied, 
And I thought, as I gazed on their beauties com- 
bined, 
Such beauty, world over, I hardly could find. 



TO A LADY. 63 

All this of the flowers ; but how shall I portray 
The bright looks of her, so much fairer than they — 
The beautiful giver ; beneath whose sweet smile, 
No wonder the flowers bloomed so richly the while. 
Ah ! well may my sullen, but sensible muse, 
To attempt such a task of description refuse ; 
For grace so transcendent, the muse must confess. 
No tongue can portray, and no language express. 

But while memory lasts, and I ponder them o'er. 
The bygones of youth and the blest days of yore. 
Thine image, fair maiden, where'er thou shalt be. 
Oft-times in sweet visions will come back to me. 
These flowers I would cherish, must droop and de- 
cay— 
Their ephemeral beauty must soon pass away ; 
But the maid who bestowed them — her radiant 

face — 
In my happy remembrance shall still have a place. 

S. B. S. 



64 P0EM8. 

A COMBAT. 

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE SAN FRANCISCO HERALD. 

One of the most determined and sanguinary ca- 
nine conflicts anywhere recorded in history occurred 
in front of our sanctum, yesterday, between a couple 
of ordinary looking curs, with some interesting skir- 
mishing by a gang of infuriated phists — (wonder if 
that is the correct orthography ?)— and a general 
movement in the direction of the stampede by the 
animals of a half dozen butcher carts. For fifteen 
minutes the street was in an agonizing uproar, and 
excited men deliberately walked over each other in 
attempting to catch glimpses of the belhgerent 
brutes, as the tide of battle carried them from one 
side of the thoroughfare to the other, against the 
heels of kicking horses and under the wheels of 
moving vehicles. They we can't begin to por- 
tray the scene in prose. Let us invoke the Muses, 
and measure off the picture in pentameter : 

One was a cur of famed combative strain — 
The English bull, with terrier intermixed — 
Skin smooth and white, broad-breasted, ears erect, 
Tail brief, eyes red, protruding under-jaw, 



A COMBAT. 65 

And all those points which men, versed in the art 

Of canine conflict, view with favoring eyes. 

A butcher owned him, and he strode the earth 

Like one that deemed the better part his own. 

The other was a shaggy, homely brute, 

With coat unkemped, and drooping tail and ears, 

And aspect mild, and deprecating mien. 

His restless eye, and gaunt, ungainly shape, 

Told that he lived neglected, and had earned, 

By toilsome march for many a month gone by, 

A bare subsistence of unwholesome food 

Through desperate forays into kitchen yards, 

And feats of reckless plunder everywhere. 

He chanced, in passing by the butcher's stall, 

To cast upon the fat and savory joints 

A look of longing, yet with no intent 

Of open seizure or of felony. 

'Tis true, his hollow stomach tempted sore 

The little virtue left by pinching want ; 

Still he resisted, and with measured trot 

Was joui'neying onward, when the butcher's cur 

Insolent with plenty, and with angry jaws 

Still red with recent revels, upward sprang, 

And after the retreating stranger sent 

A growl of scorn. The latter stopped and turned — 

The jeer and insult grated to the quick ; 



QQ POEMS. 

And with the fire of noble fathers dead 
And turned to sausage, and with bristhng back, 
He boldly faced the scorner of the poor. 
No word was uttered ; each the other eyed, 
And showed his teeth with sanguinary growl, 
Hurling defiance and undying hate, 
And courting combat in its direst form. 
Around they walked, stiff-legged and menacing, 
In circle, to survey the 'vantage ground ; 
Then with a howl of pent-up, smothered rage, 
They sprang together, and the silent street 
Koared with the tumult of the struggling dogs. 
The fur flew. Then a score or less of curs 
Mingled their voices with the general din. 
Upreared they fought, and lying down they/^, 
And through the street they rolled in noisy strife, 
While plunging horses and excited men 
Gave zest and glory to the combatants. 
Approached the dogs unto the northern curb. 

When 

But the character of an epic poem — in which cate- 
gory of Hterature we humbly class the above — will 
not permit us to give the result of the encounter in 
verse. It would render the production entirely too 
didactic. The Iliad leaves the fall of Troy to the 
historian, after burying its defender ; we will, there- 



A COMBAT. 67 

fore, mention here that, after a prolonged struggle 

against the ' northern curb ' alluded to in the poem, 

the dog of the butcher beat a yelping and cowardly 

retreat, leaving his plebeian foe master of the field. 

The return of the victor to the southern portion of 

the city will probably be made the basis of an 

* Odyssey.' " 

C. A. S. 



^8 POEMS. 



BAENUM'S BABY SHOW.— 1855. 

Who says the world moves not apace, in tliis our 

happy age, 
When " Young America " so soon comes bouncing 

on the stage ; 
When e'en the babies, yet untaught to lisp a 

mother's name, 
Forsake their cradles to compete for favor and for 

fame. 

When Gotham holds her lofty seat, queen city of 

the nation, 
Proud patroness of enterprise throughout the whole 

creation ; 
Whose voice from press and business mart, rolls out 

its potent thunders. 
And last, not least, whose Bamum keeps the world 

agape with wonders ! 

Come one, come all, both old and young, and mingle 

in these scenes. 
Come spinsters of uncertain age, and misses in your 

teens. 



BABNUMS BABY SHOW. 69 

Ye rusty, crusty bachelors ! shake off your false 

alarms, 
And boldly face our new recruits— our infantry in 

arms ! 

Lo ! from the four extremities of famous Yankee land, 
Come juvenile competitors — a happy, hopeful band ; 
Babes fat and fair ; triplets ; ah me ! a dozen pairs 

of twins ! 
Thus some poor mortals suffer two-fold penance for 

their sins ! 

Alas, that in this novel strife its prizes should be won, 
At sacrifice of here and there some mother's darling 

son ; 
Some bright one midst the family group, who reigns 

without a peer. 
Lured from his Httle realm to find a hundred rivals 

here ! 

But surely, each maternal hp in triumph will declare 
Her's was the loveHest offering ; the fairest of the 

fair ; 
The sweet delusion nature gave, still reigns withiu 

her breast. 
Each partial eye its jewel sees, the brightest and the 

best I 



70 POEMS. 

Kind matrons ! * on whose nod depend the fortunes 

of the hour, 
Whose taste shall choose from out the wreath, the 

rarest, sweetest flower ; 
Forget not, how in olden time that naughty apple 

came 
Among those rival goddesses, to wake the envious 

flame. 

When Paris—inconsiderate youth, Hecuba's ill- 
starred son, — 

Presumed amoi^g the matchless three, to name the 
peerless one ; 

And so, upon his foolish head, Minerva's hate came 
down. 

While Juno lowered upon his race with her revenge- 
ful frown. 

My song should cease j but still the muse would 

linger to propose 
A health to Bamum— wondrous man ! the friend of 

baby-shows ; 
In all the fields of enterprise a champion shrewd 

and bold, 
Beneath whose magic hand, whate'er it touches turns 

to gold ! 

* The lady judges. 



BARNUM'S BABY SHOW. 71 

Years hence, perchance, some hale old man — his 

grandchild on his knee — 
Will oft recount the bygone times, when young and 

blithe was he ; 
When bright and lustrous was the eye, now weak 

with age, and dim, 
And boast about that early prize that Bamum gave 

to him! 

Now to each little cherub face a double health is 

here — 
May time add yet another charm with each succeed- 
ing year ; 
TlQ hfe's meridian sun, in all its richness shall un- 
fold 
The blossom, fair and beauteous, as the infant bud 
foretold. 

S. B, S. 



72 POEMS. 



MEMOET AND HOPE. j 

The niglit was clear, the air was keen, j 
The ground was covered thick with snow, 

And far above, the glittering sheen 

Of Heaven's bright orbs would come and go. i 

I felt old Boreas' stinging bite, : 

As shrieking through the sash he came. 

And saucily addressed my Hght, i 

As if she were an olden flame. j 

Half drunk with fun, the jolly god ; 

Bore the hght snow-flakes from their bed, j 

And rushing up the narrow road, ; 

"Whirled fiercely round the traveler's head. 

Who, just returned from Congress Hall, i 

"Was quite unable well to shift, — * 

While striving Buncombe's speech to call, ^ 
He could not, somehow, see the drift. 

Ha ! how the laughing stars, so mild, 1 

Watch the mad frolic from on high ; [ 

They seem to say : A favorite child ■ 

Is privileged to tease and cry. j 



MEMOR Y AND HOPE, 73 

I dropt the curtain on the scene, 

And back within my chamber turned ; 

"When burst the doors that stood between 
My callous heart and brain that burned 

With recollections of the past — 

Aroused, enldndled from their sleep ; 

The sweetest breeze, the harshest blast, 
The day to sing, the night to weep. 

Allotted by the mighty King — 

All pass before my shrinking eye ; 
Nor first the sorrows bear a sting, 

While every joy upheaves a sigh. 

As hooded monk and mail-clad knight, 

Upon their patron's natal eve, 
With gorgeous pomp and solemn rite 

Th' illuminated castle leave ; 

Commanding all the numerous train 

That forms the lordly retinue. 
They file upon the darkened plain, 

From whence in silence they may view 

The vestal, silver lamps that shine 
Depended from the casements high ; 



74 POEMS. 

Nor is there movement in the line, 
Until they flicker, leap and die ; 

So, from the portal of my mind 

Leads covered hope and steeled despair. 

Innumerable host, that wind 

Beneath the gateway-torches' glare. 

The arsenal of thoughts and deeds 

At last forsaken— all apart, 
Each nature on the other feeds — 

Heart looks on mind, mind searches heart. 

" Ha ! good Kodolpho, didst thou mark ? 

Some cursed menial yet remains ; 
I see her 'mid the light— nay hark ! 

Hear'st thou her desecrating strains ? 

" Haste ! good Eodolpho ; give thy steed 
The freest rein, and to me bring 

The audacious wretch ; with greatest speed 
Her carcase to the dogs we'll fling." 

" Stay, my good knight," old Lubin cries, 
" I'm sure my lord his word withdraws ; 

Ton form and voice is from the skies, 
Our Lady smiles upon the cause." 



MEMORY AND HOP K 75 

Wty did I fail the form and voice 
Of childliood's innocence and peace 

To recognize ? But now rejoice 1 
Hope argues from them, doubtings cease. 

Blest Heaven, we see, that ere the soul 
Is quite divorced from Faith and Truth, 

Before remembrances are whole, 
An angel trims the lamp of youth. 

With cruel throbbing pulsed my head, 
My brain with thousand vagaries teemed, 

As, worn and weary, on my bed, 

I threw my panting self and dreamed. 

Amid my native hills I roam, 

I hear the brooks, I taste the breeze ; 

Disposed at once to joy and gloom, 
I mark each scene of childliood's glees. 

Mysterious presence by my side ! 

And stranger still in that I know 
It is my love, and joy, and pride, 

That close attends where'er I go. 

Full recognition with the morn, 

My longing, anxious spirit had ; 
*Twas then I knew that face and form — 

I know it now, and I am sad ! — C. A. S. 



76 POEMS. 



LINES EEAD AT A SUPPER 

OF COMPANY C, FIRST BATTALION INFANTRY, MASS. VOL. 
MILITIA, GREAT BARRINGTON, 1855. 

Once on a time Lieutenant C, upon my reveries stole, 

His right hand held his last cigar ; his left, my 
button-hole ; 

" We're going to have a supper, Sam, next Satur- 
day," said he, 

" Here goes your name ; don't say me * nay ' — ^you 
must be there to tea ! 

"The clergy are invited guests; the yeomen near 

and far. 
The lawyers, and a host beside who practice at the 

bar ; 
The Captain, and his soldiers all, with tinsel, fife 

and drum ; 
I tell you," said Lieutenant C, " this military's 

some ! 

And furthermore, this brief advice you'll find is 
haply timed ; 
Come not, equipped and armed alone, but duly 
cocked and primed ; 



LINES BEAD AT A SUPPER. 77 

For when the cloth is cleared, we trust you fellows 

of the law 
"Will undertake to satisfy our intellectual maw. 

Give us a speech, or sentiment, or both, if you 

prefer ; 
Or, should your Muse prove tractable, just coax a 

smile from her ; 
Come on at least with ready will, and only do your 

best, 
And I — your most admiring friend — will answer for 

the rest." 

Thus spake the First Lieutenant, and in quest of 

other prey. 
Left me, his latest victim, to ponder on my way ; 
To cogitate some shirking scheme, or supplicate the 

muse. 
Who rarely suffers a default when an attorney sues. 

*Tis hard, methought ; 'tis passing hard, such pres- 
sing friends to meet. 

While walking very quietly along the village street ; 

To have them chalk you for a speech, and pledge 
you to fulfill ; 

But harder yet to shake them off, unless you say 
you will. 



78 P0EM8. 

So hither to our feast I bring, for better or for 

worse, 
An honest toast, though plainly clad in unambitious 

verse ; 
Forget the garb that clothes the thought, uncomely 

though it be. 
But to the naked sentiment, driuk heartily with 

me! 

The Boys of Berkshire ! skilled alike in arts of peace 

and war ; 
Proud owners of this fair estate their fathers battled 

for; 
With hands to do, and nerve to dare, in Freedom's 

sacred cause, — 
Defenders of theu' country's rights ; upholders of 

her laws ; 

A health to these, the worthy sons of brave, immor- 
tal sires ! 

Forever may their bosoms glow with patriotic 
fires ! 

No hirehng troops are our defence ; but Freedom 
proudly rears 

Her flag, and hopefully regards our Berkshire Volun- 
teers I 



LINES READ AT A SUPPER. 79 

A health, a double health to these ; should Freedom 

e'er invoke 
Her sons to rally and resist the rash invaders' stroke ; 
Not last, not least ; but first and best, where thickest 

fight appears, 
Look ye to find our noble boys ; our Berkshire 

Volunteers ! 

S. B. S. 



80 FOEMS. 



FEMALE EQUESTKIANSHIP. 

PBEFACE TO REPORT OF COMMITTEE AT EXHIBITION OF 
HOUSATONIC AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY, 1855. 

In this our age so fraught wioh starthng thmgs, 
"When each nine days some new-fledged wonder 

brings ; 
"When good old grand-dames rub their pious eyes, 
And heave by turns their Partingtonian sighs ; 
"When each young stripling, ere he learns to read, 
Aspires to manage his two-forty steed ; 
Forsakes his primer, and, as best he can. 
Displays the pony and the fast young man ; 
When beardless boys with martial headgear crowned, 
Scare all the horses in the country round ; 
Defy the foeman with prodigious might. 
Though well assured there's none at hand to fight ; 
"When innovations such as these begin, 
Ought not our ladies to be " counted in ? " 
Aye ! burst the barriers that have kept her fast. 
And give to woman all her " rights " at last ! 
May she not speak, though blest with healthful lungs, 
And doubly favored with the gift of tongues ? 
While man his seeming precedence attains, 
May she not sometimes drive, and hold the reins ? 



FEMALE EQUESTBIAN8HIP. 81 

On this our annual Farmer's holiday, 
Hath she no charms and graces to display ? 
While man pursues his schemes for fame or pelf, 
May she not seek some market for herself ? 
In sooth she may ; nor let one cynic dare 
To chide this feature of our Berkshire Fair ! 
Come then, and in these festive sports engage ! 
Come spinsters all of problematic age, 
Come on, fair matrons, and ye laughing girls, 
With raven tresses or with auburn curls ; 
Come one, come all to ply those nameless arts. 
Which make such havoc with our tender hearts. 
Who knows how many an unrecorded prize 
Lurks now within some bashful lover's eyes ; 
How many a swain beholds but to adore 
Some favorite lass he almost loved before ! 
Ah ! who can tell, from such a scene as this, 
What hopes may follow, or what nuptial bliss ; 
What life-long pleasures, 'neath the smiles of 

fate, 
Upon the issue of these moments wait ! 

Health to the daughters of our worthy dames ! 
The brightest jewels which old Berkshire claims. 
Despising not the duties of their sphere, 
Behold the trophies of their labor here ! 



82 POEMS, 

See the rich products of the dairy-room ; 
The tasteful fabrics of the housewife's loom ; 
The laces, silks, and works of finer art ; — 
Say, hath not woman well sustained her part ? 
And last, not least ; hath she not shown her skill 
To guide the steed, and curb him at her will ? 
O may our boys prove no ungi'ateful churls. 
Who own such soil and court such lovely girls ! 
Be it their pride to cherish and defend 
These best of treasures Heaven to man could lend ! 

S. B. S. 



LINES FOB ST. JOHN'S DAY. S3 ' 

i 

LINES FOE ST. JOHN'S DAT. \ 

i 
Another festal day's return : ] 



Thrice uttered be the greeting, 
As round those hghts that brightest burn, 
The Brotherhood are meeting. 

No anniversary of Time 

Our Order's records centre — 
When first she ope'd her gates sublime ! 

And bade the pilgrim enter. 

Who have not passed by Mount Moriah, ; 

Nor learned the sealed Ionic, i 

May deem the widow's son of Tyre j 

Possessed no word Masonic. 

But let rejected skeptics cry, • 

Her ancient dates are fiction : 
Few will presume to her deny 1 

John's Saintly benediction. 

And, lo ! the bond in Art confessed, ^ 

When skilled with square and gavel, I 

Through Europe's courts, from East to West ^ 

The Masters freely travel. 



84 POEMS. 

Wlieii round Cologne encamped tlie Craft — 

Those wonderful adapters, — 
Who crowned the simple Doric shaft 

With Corinth's beauteous chapters ; 

When he, whose architecture wove 
In stone the hymn and psalter, 

Upreared the Pantheon far above 
St. Peter's gorgeous altar ; 

When rectitude of heavenly law, 
Once symboled by the plummet, 

Was typified to heights of awe 
In Strasbourg's piercing summit ; 

Or when Milan's cathedral chou's 
First sang the strains of Starble — 

As burst into a spray of spires 
That soaring wave of marble. 

Albeit the operative tools 

Of true Masonic labor. 
Now yield the Order's nobler rules, 

Toward God, and self, and neighbor. 

We bring not from the distant Past 

A legendary story — 
The grandest hving structures cast 

Her monumental glory. 



LINES FOB ST. JOHN'S DAY. 85 

Thanks to the Architect Supreme ! 

Who by the Temple's building, 
By every joined block and beam, 

By splendid wealth of gilding, 

By column and by vestibule, 

And by the place vail-hidden, 
Presented Wisdom's perfect school, 

To which our lives are bidden. 

No more the Pantheistic thought. 

Life is a plant's expansion : 
Man builds a House ; his deeds are wrought 

In texture of a mansion. 

The pavement of a ground-floor shows 

A handiwork indented ; 
The walls which faithfulness enclose, 

By justice are cemented. 

O, bond of Truth ! O, mystic tie ! 

That binds our heart-strings human^ 
In brotherhood that passeth by 

The vaunted love of woman ! 

Where, in the wide world's mighty scope, 

Are found the homes not wanting 
Thy blessed power for Faith and Hope, 

'Gainst hollow cheer and canting ! 



36 POEMS. 

The Ark whose capitals we greet — 
Which holds the workmen's wages — 

Has safely reached the Master's seat ; 
Borne down the Lodge of Ages. 

So shall it move, majestic, grand. 
Through Time's prescribed cycle, 

'Till on the sea and on the land 
Shall stand the angel Michael ! 

C. A. S. 



CHRISTMAS LINES, 87 

CHEISTMAS LINES, 

SENT WITH A PACKAGE TO THREE BOARDING-SCHOOL 
MISSES, CHRISTMAS DAY, 1853. 

I SAW them at the window. 

So like the Graces Three ; 

The loveliest and fairest 

The eye coidd wish to see ; 

And from those merry voices, 

Melodious and clear ; 

The welcome, " Merry Christmas I " 

Came floating to my ear. 

There stood the charming Annie, 
I always loved so well ; 
And Lou, for whom my fondness 
I hardly dare to tell ; 
And lastly, tho' not leastly 
Of all the Merry Three, 
There stood the merry JuHa— 
Oh what a witch is she ! 

And so I just bethought me, — 
All bashfulness aside ; — 
To send this bunch of sweetness, 
(My love solidified !) 



33 POEMS. 

And now, adieu, sweet maidens I 
And always think of me, 
"Wlien you recall the Christmas 
Of Eighteen Fifty Three ! 

S. B. S. 



A POEM. 89 

A POEM, 

DELIYERED AT BOYS AND GIRLS' FESTIVAL, JULY 4, 1856, 
AT GREAT BARRINGTON. 

As WEARY traveler, panting for repose. 

Halts on his jom-ney, where some streamlet flows ; 

Seeks out some grassy couch beneath the trees, 

And shuts his eyes, and calmly takes his ease ; 

So comes our Goddess, with a gladsome mien, 

Lured by the aspect of this jo3"ou3 scene. 

Sated with glory and the deafening noise 

Of crackers, guns, and patriotic boys ; 

Crazed with the medley — both of sounds and 

sights, — 
The crowds, the din, the independent fights ; — « 
The very music all at once she scorns, 
Intoxicated with so many horns ; — 
"Weary of these, we bid her welcome here, 
This nice old lady, in her eightieth year. 
Hearty, and hale, and fair she is, as when 
Her earliest presence cheered the soul-tried men. 
Her waist grows ampler, and her arms, 'tis true, 
Have kept on stretching all her lifetime through. 
For many a year, perplexed with want and toil. 
With meddUng neighbors and some family broil, 



90 P0EM8. 

In fair proportions her estate has grown, 
By thrift and tact she more than holds her own. 
Her buxom form, for anght that now appears. 
Bids fair to last another four-score years — 
For well she knows, whatever may befall, 
Her Constitution can survive it all. 

Fain would the muse, with voice attuned to praise, 
Bepeat the story of her earlier days ; 
Becount the strange adventures of her youth — 
A tale of romance, but of treasured truth — 
How she and Jonathan conspired to wed, 
And when it was, and what the neighbors said ; 
How, ever since the nuptial knot was tied. 
Flocks, acres, children, all have multiplied. 
How, from the thirteen patrimonial farms, 
Hard earned at first, and kept by force and 

arms, 
The bounds have widened toward the setting sun, 
Till Jonathan is lord of thirty-one ! 
How, vexed and jealous at the rare success, 
Britannia sought her daughter to distress ; 
How Johnny Taurus came from o'er the sea. 
To put in force the tax upon his tea ; 
Fought eight long years, a strong and vigorous pull. 
And earned right well his name of Johnny Bull. 



A POEM. 91 

How, once again, he strove the boys to licJc, 

And tough "Old Hickory" caused him to "cut 

stick" 
In later times, how, on a foreign field, 
Old " Eough and Eeady " quite forgot to yield ; 
How, from the first, through each successive year. 
On land, on sea, in every noble sphere, 
In science, arts, and legislative skill. 
With sword and plow-share, and the gray goose- 
quill, 
With wind and water, earth, and fire, and steam, 
And Hghtning harnessed like a docile team ; 
In every branch of commerce and of trade, 
Where man's proud impress ever yet was made ; 
Columbia's Sons, with ready zeal addressed. 
Have proved themselves the foremost and the best ; 
ALL this at length, the Muse would fain rehearse, 
In faithful numbers and befitting verse ; 
But, closely scanning the assembled throng, 
Forbears discreetly to protract her song. 



Columbia's goddess once again beholds her natal 

day. 
Her gallant sons and daughters fair are joined in 

glad array — 



92 POEMS. ^ 

■ i 

From liill and dale, from north and south, from east ! 

to western shore, 

Sound praises and thanksgivings for the patriot men ; 

of yore. 3 

Fair Liberty beholds the scene with just maternal i 

pride, " j 

She gazes at her rich domain, extending far and i 

wide, — ; 

Her noble lakes, her busy streams, her prairies and 

savannahs, i 

While from them all, in unison, ascend the glad ho- 

sannas. ; 

"Alas!" she cries, " that in my name, one recreant ^ 
traitor should, I 

With impious hand, essay to part this glorious sister- 
hood ! I 

That midway o'er so fair expanse, should stretch ; 
that odious line — ] 

My sons ! guard well the heritage, 'tis yours — all i 
yours — and mine ! " 

^ «lC 5|J 5f€ ^ 3j* 

All sated with glory and swelling with pride, i 

From the " noise and confusion " now turning aside, 
The goddess of Liberty hitherward strays, ] 

On the fresh face of youth and of beauty to gaze. ! 



A POEM. 93 

" All ! these are my jewels !" with rapture she cries, 
As she pauses to wonder, while feastitig her eyes — 
" No regal display with its semblance of bliss, 
Can present such a heart-cheering picture as this !" 

With a radiant smile are her features o'erspread ; 
Every trace of disquiet has vanished and fled ; 
Not a shadow there lingers of doubt or of care, 
For she looks at her jewels, and cannot despair. 

Here she spies a bright youth, who in progress of 

years, 
At the far west shall Hve with the brave pioneers ; 
And that ruby-Hpped lass, as a Southerner's bride, 
O'er a cotton plantation shall one day preside. 

All this picturesque group shall be scattered afar, 
As old time rushes on with his clattering car ; 
But no absence or distance can wither or chill 
That remembrance of youth, that shall cling to us 
still. 

And our goddess well knows, that as each rolling 

year 
Shall bring round in its circuit this birthday so dear ; 
Every eye shall be bright, and by every tongue, 
From old ocean to ocean her praise shall be sung. 



94 Jpomfs. 

No new State in its birth shall embarrass her cause, 
For no traitorous subject shall question her laws ; 
But the new State each Sovereign honestly craves, 
Is where Hymen presides, and the lords are the 



Lo ! her chariot waits, and "the goddess is in it ; ] 

She has got an appointment in Texas next minute — ■ ] 

She is donning her robe — 'tis of red white and blue — ' i 

Now she waves us her hand— and she bids us adieu I I 

S. B. S. i 



OLD SCENES. 95 



OLD SCENES. 



My boyhood home is fresh to view ; 

The gladdening spring has dressed 
The landscape with her foliage new, 

And all the earth seems blest. 

The fine old street once more is paved 

With shadows from the elms, 
"Whose branches have for centuries waved 

In clear, ethereal realms ; 

And interclasped their wrinkled hands, 

With bridal verdure clothed. 
As though in earth they heard their bans ;- 

By Driad Priests betrothed. 

The hills and mountains are replete 

With glory as they stand : 
The one, soft sloping to our feet, 

The other sharp and grand. 

And close below the rugged steep, 

The Housatonic flows ; 
Like moat before a fortress keep, 

Defiant to its foes. 



96 POEMS, ] 

And dotting all the valley plain, ' 

Are mansions of the proud, 
Who leave the city's strife for gain 

In summer's sultry cloud, ; 

In quiet haunts Hke these to find ^ : 

From care a sweet release, ^ 

And gather for a burdened mind 1 
The recompense of Peace. 

This day above an hundred, seems j 

Enriched by Nature's rule ; ] 

The sun is temperate in his beams ; : 

The winds are low and cool. ' 

Now, while the morning hours remain, \ 

m seek some favorite place, ' 

Where I can wake an olden strain, : 

i 

Some childhood lines retrace. i 

And first my thoughts are westward turned, \ 

Beyond the pine-clad hill. ; 

Alas ! I'm told the grove is burned ; 
In ruin Hes the mill. 

The woods destroyed, the marble bed ; 

Untouched by workmen, save ,! 

When at a summons from the dead, i 

To decorate a grave. i 



OLD SCENES. 9/ 



So that to click of bar or spade 
Within our burjing grounds, 

The muffled drill alone is made 
To give responsive sounds. 

That ravished and deserted spot 

I cannot wish to see ; 
For what it was, and now is not, 

Would mournful speak to me. 

Across the river, 'neath a spring, 
Near to the mountain's crest, 

A rock of reddish hue juts forth, 
As from a mother's breast. 

Nor treble labor of ascent. 
Nor lack of picture grace 

From yonder rock, do now prevent 
My visit to its base. 

But I remember, vivid, when 
I last stood there at dawn 

With one I shall not see again — 
For George has long since gone. 

Two names upon the southern side, 
Were rudely carved by him ; 

But, I am told, before he died, 
The marks had grown quite dim. 



98 POEMS. 

O, friend, beloved ! No sculptured stone 

Affords my heart relief ; 
I see in that rough rock alone 

My monument of grief. 

Forgive me, then, if I refuse 
To walk where oft with thee. 

Those paths — in pleasure others choose — 
They're sacred now to me. 

Then what direction shall I take. 

Where I in ease may look ? 
"Will memories jarring discord make 

Along the Roaring Brook ? 

Would any thing of recent change 

Unpleasant feelings bring. 
Should I decide to visit now 

The "Evanescent Spring?" 



The morning hours are fully passed ; 

The sun rolls down his zenith wave ; 
As with a fancy, pleased at last, 

I turn my steps toward Belcher's Cave. 

A hard and patient search revealed 
The cavern's mouth to me again ; 

For nature cunningly concealed 
The entrance to the forger's den. 



OLD SCENES. 99 

Well I remember, venturous Dave j 

"Would lead us creeping through the porch ; ^ 

Then suddenly illume the nave | 

With flashes from his birchen torch. j 

i 
And when we boys would, proud, declare | 

Dave's cool contempt for snakes and ghouls ; 

Droll Tom would say : " He's oft been there. 

In search of Belcher's forging tools." , 

* I 
Ah, me ! when on far distant shore, j 

I stood beside each lowly grave ; j 

I did not think I should once more i 

Repeat their names in Belcher's Cave. 

Here history and tradition both ' 

Rehearse of charities and crimes ; ] 

The one, recorded under oath, j 

The other, tales of grandame's times. 

A lad who sought his father's ewe. 
One day, descried a curious smoke ; 

The bank soon up the chimney flew, • 

And this illegal broker broke. ' 

What days were " celebrated " here ! ^ 

Here there were scenes of wildest mirth ; 
The grandest frolics of the year ! 

Were held around this spacious hearth. 



100 POBMB, 

I want tlie pictures of the early morn ; 

Not the cold thinking of the mind mature ; 
With harsh demands of duty these are born ; — • 

The former only in our hearts endure. 

Awake, ye echoes of the joyous past 1 
I summon now a happy youthful throng. 

Come all, as when we here assembled last, 
With jest, and trick, and anecdote, and song. 

Fond recollections crowd a swift-winged hour, 
By turns provoking me to laugh and weep ; 

'Till they, and my emotions, lose their power, 
And gladly (wearied) I recline and sleep. 

And as I slept, Lo ! I was in a trance ; 

A fairy troop surround my flinty bed ; 
With pantomimic gesturing they dance ; 

Then, close approaching, the Titania said* :■— 



x4.gain the fairy waved her golden wand— 
A lovely form descended from the clouds ! 

Madonna-like, her look was sweet and fond ; 
A nameless grace her noble brow enshrouds. 

* Wliat Titania said, is of too personal a nature to be here 
inserted. 



OLD SCENES. 101 

She sat before me on a silver throne ! 

Her chastened beauty warmed upon my heart ; 
Methought another, higher sphere was known, — 

Of which earth-scenes some blessed hints impart. 

Again the sceptre waves ! The spell is broke ; 

The dear illusion can no longer please ; 
For O ! how full of agony I woke, 

And found that I was weeping on my knees ! 

An impulse, irresistible and strange, 

Prompts me to climb the craggy ledge above ; 

From whence I view the glorious set of sun, 
And learn the meaninoc of the dream of love. 



'O 



Through the thick covering of the village trees, 
A pleasant cottage meets my roaming eye ; 

Instant, as though borne to me on the breeze. 
Sweet thrills of recognition force a sigh ! 

C. A. S. 



102 POEMS, 



VALENTINE. 



The Ladj Helen is strangely fair, 
Endowed witli charms and graces rare ; 
"With histrons eyes, whose glance is rapture, 
And beautiful masses of sfolden hair. 



o^ 



A rich bloom, hke the summer rose. 
Upon her soft cheek courts repose. 
And o'er her features, when she smileth, 
A gleam as of sunHght comes and goes. 

Her brow is placid and serene ; 

Her form the proudest e'er was seen ; 

And, like the classic Grecian Helen, 

She seems by nature pronounced a queen. 

Her very presence hath a spell, 

Within whose light I've loved to dwell ; — 

To sit, and gaze, and only listen, 

To catch her syllables as they fell. 

Her heart, they say, hath boundless worth, 
Her beauty scarce can symbol forth ; 
In her, a spirit meet for Heaven, 
Its gentle influence sheds on earth. 



VALENTINE. 103 

Unmarked amid tlie passing throng, 
These eyes have gazed enraptui'ed long ; 
This heart hath throbbed with wild emotion, 
That fain would break and outpour in song ! 

I could a tale of love unfold ; 
But the truth were just as well untold ; — 
'Tis precious httle for me she careth, — 
A rusty bachelor forty years old ! ! 

But with thy leave, Saint Valentine, 
This wreath of poesy I'll twine ; 
But whence it comes, and who's the author, 
The Lady Helen could never divine. 

S. B. S. 



104 POEMS. 



TO ADA 



Thou hast the wealth of beauty ; thou art fair, — 
As oft thy faithful mirror must have told thee ; — 

Endowed with charms and comely grace so rare, 
That all must pay thee homage who behold thee. 

Thou hast the wealth of mind ; to quest of lore, 
Classic and modern, thou hast given thy youth ; 

And — glorious thing in woman — ^liast in store 
Treasures of thought, of wisdom, and of truth. 

Thou hast the wealth of soul ; that nobler part, 
In all its depth and plenitude is thine, 

"Which gives the richest graces to the heart. 
And makes us kindred of a race divine. 

Thus, thrice-endowed with wealth, I may not doubt 
That whosoe'er thyself and thine shall win ; 

Will find a temple, beautiful without, 
And ornamented gorgeously within. 

S. B. S. 



TOUCHES AND MINTS. 105 

TOUCHES AND HINTS. 

POEM DELIVERED AT ZETA PSI BANQUET, CAUEOENIA. 

It seems as if the gracious WiU 

That hoUowed out the bay, 
And smote the outer, rock-ribbed hill, 

To ope a golden way 

For sea and ship, for home and hope ; 

"Was equal in behest 
That man should plant on yonder slope 

The CoUege of the West. 

The long, low beach of sedge and vines ; 

The slow-retreating plain ; 
The emerald upland, which reclines 

Against the mountain chain, — 

Whose steep ascent and swelling girth 

Lend dignifying powers 
To that choice spot of all the earth 

For academic towers ! 

O, beauteous scene for brain and heart. 

Our students' life beguiles ; 
The sleeping vale, the teeming mart, 

The ocean and the isles ! 



106 POEMS. 

With ever-varied shifting phase 

Of motion and repose ; 
"With mom's impenetrable haze, 

With evening's gorgeous close ! 

With shimmering noon, and glittering night. 

Of such translucent beam, 
As on the meditative sight 

Kevives the Berkeleyan dream ! 

Where wintry snows are never known, 

Nor enervating heat ; 
Within the isothermal zone, 

A sure and perfect seat. 

Where nature for the site supplies 

The Oracles of Fate, 
A bounteous wisdom justifies 

The Nation and the State. 

And, thanks to many a noble friend. 

Of unsectarian aim, 
Whose large endowments here descend 

With honor to his name. 

And, thanks for toil in leading chairs, 

By men of cultured skill, 
Who, 'mid a thousand teasing cares, 

Have kept an even will. 



TOUCHES AND HINTS. 107 

Auspicious history ! From this page 

We hft a trustful gaze ; 
Though weightiest issues mark the Age, 

And anarchies amaze. 

Strong Fort of Faith ! Assaults are vain ; 

Thy banners never furled ! 
While Time may last, thou shalt retain 

The Outlook of a world ! 

Fair priestess ! who shall yet indite 

Ten thousand glorious names ; 
With reverent sentiments to-night, 

We dare invoke thy flames ! 

" Room for Reformers ! with their sovereign plan 
To heal or mitigate the woes of man." 
The cry is ancient as our Nation's time. 
Yet born anew in every tapster's rhyme. 
The field has widened at each fresh demand. 
Till desk and forum ope on every hand. 

Give Heed, O People ! is the prophet shout, 
Of those whose theory is the " Latest out." 
Nor less potential is the summons borne 
To found a sect, or lift a race forlorn ; 
Or force a city corner upon corn. 



108 POEMS. 

Alike tlieir dignity, — the crowd to back ; — 

The long-eared medium, and the short-haired quack. 

The simple truths our patriot Fathers saw, 
Sketched in resolve and molded into Law ; 
By which in perils unsurpassed thej stood — 
Built with their bones, cemented with their blood : 
Are aU too narrow for the modern seer, 
"Whose wondrous License strikes the popular ear 1 
Whose pubHshed writ is. Readiness for " fame," 
Won through a bloodless martyrdom of shame. 

Pretending now a scientific lore. 

And now a message from the ' other shore ;' 

Li either case prepared to tell, in terms, 

The grandest compound and the primal germs ; 

E-ehearsing nonsense in exultant tone, 

As if the lectui'es made creation groan ; 

In any case, prepared to scoff and sneer 

At every custom decency holds dear ; — 

Seducing ignorance with lascivious charms, 

And healthy conscience stinging with alarms. 

Such are Outriders, on the secular coasts, 

For less unselfish, less courageous hosts ; 

Who now disclaim, and afterwards suggest 

The " Progress " programme may be for the best ? 



TOUCHES AND HINTS. 109 " 

With cunning glance, to note in every move I 

The points debauched communities approve ; 

Le§t they should fail to pander, just in time, 

To some new doctrine, vicious but " sublime !" * 

See worthy subjects for the prison lock, i 

i 

Unblushing labor with the corporate stock, \ 

To cover up the robbery of a ring, \ 

Or fast enthrone some great monopoly king ; i 

Until the people, rising in a storm, j 

Announce their temper for a real reform. ] 

When Lo ! the foremost, with the loudest cheer, \ 

These rear-guard veterans suddenly appear ! j 

Their functions now a double game of cheat : \ 

Shape voted verdicts to a flat defeat ; : 

The while they make their own promotion sure, ■ 

And preach a flattering gospel to the poor ; \ 

Then in some office, lucrative and warm, ^ 

They whisper sadly of a lost Reform ! 

1 

Behold the highest council in the land ! -, 

What men dishonored ! and what rogues com- j 

mand ! j 

The jo\ial scoundrel (or the lucky fool), 

Eich from his ventures in a gambler's pool. 

For bigger tricks, or personal regard, , 

Concludes to take the senatorial card. j 



110 POEMS. 

Instant proclaims, in condescending tone, 
His champion platform, as the " Laborers' own ! " 
Secures his organs by a brand new " dress," 
A monthly stipend, and a mammoth press. 
Pensions electors and the hovering scribes 
Who wiite his speeches and discount his bribes. 
Assumes the toga with an easy air. 
And flings, off-hand, the talks his friends prepare. 
(Keminding cronies — in their private chat, — 
*' Though wit had prestige, we've reformed all 
that.") 

Who shall these workings and these powers abate ? 
Inform the masses and preserve the State ! 
Where will you find the valorous strength and will 
To push these creatures from the seats they fill ? 
Who shall come forward and combine to raise 
The social standard of our earlier days ; 
When thieves, by purchasing official place. 
Could not obtain an honest household's grace ; 
When those whose name no stamp of honor bore, 
Would not presume to cross the good man's door ? 

Behold the masters of the daily " Press " ! 
Whose broadening power is almost measureless. 
How few perceive, confess, and trembling bear 
The moral burdens in the realm they share. 



TOUCHES AND HINTS. HI 

How many to such high position bring 
The view and purpose of a sordid thing. 
Perhaps buy out, and run with vengeful cast, 
Some well-born journal with an honored past. 
Breed typhoid-tumults o'er a clerkship wrong ; 
Misquote large markets, and old " jobs " prolong. 
Inlay their columns with the tales that smirch. 
And pass the platter in the wealthiest church. 
Spurn trifling offers from the babbling trade, 
And keep their virtue on a di'ess parade ; 
Maintain their cipher at the thousandth score, — 
And shed contempt on every dollar store. 
Let others falter with a timid qualm, — 
Their voice, we know, is always for Keform. 

A tearful pity touches the distress 

Of those compelled to read our neutral Press. 

Where circumstantial suppositions surge, 

In reckless grammar, to the very verge 

Of dire conclusions on the mooted head. 

Of what was once surmised to have been said. 

Who can presume to adequately greet 
The fer^dd, candid, superficial sheet ? 
Where every flabby " Reformation " scheme, — 
Creed of fanatic, and the sick man's dream, — 



112 POEMS. 

Is treated gently, — in a savaiit style, 

Proudly repressive of tlie reader's smile. 

Wliere, every day, in paragraph and lines, 

The special hobby of the tripod shines ; — 

In tireless iteration making known 

A Balance Eegulator, all his own ! 

A short, infallible, perspicuous code. 

Which sets each subject his appropriate load. 

The very rich shall all the taxes pay ; 

The very poor need only vote and play. 

The prentice builders shall their wages rate, 

And draw an extra tribute from the State ; 

While those who mark the trestle-board and 

chart. 
Must take their income in a love of Art. 

Who shall expose the communistic scamps ? 

Combat agrarians, and the lecturing tramps? 

To real complaints appropriately reply ; 

To borrowed doubts return the reasons why ? 

With pleasing humor dissipate their chaff, 

And send their problems to the idiot's laugh ? 

Incline the people for the pubHc weal. 

To crush their counsels with contemptuous heel ; 

The mighty gulfs resistlessly present, 

'Twixt just ambition and vile discontent ; 



TOUCHES AND HINTS. 

Illume anew the pathway and the scope 
Of careful judgment and a healthy Hope ? 

For such a service — welcomed in the van — 
Expect the College-educated man ! 
To some, a special and a noble call : 
A sphere of duty, more or less, to all. 

What though uncounted thousands never own 
The debt in such essential service grown ? 
What though a legion cannot understand 
That any dangers shadow o'er the land ? 
And, least of all, suspect explosive force 
From such a shallow, freedom-prating source ? 
Though every warning is decried and hissed. 
The threats portentious and the debt exist. 

And O, the grateful tribute, on this score, 
Due the alumni who have gone before ! 

Enough of surface thinking in the land. 
Sufficient privilege at each youth's command. 
More than enough of Proverb lore extant, — 
Oft wreathed in context of revolting cant. 
As well predict a harvest-field of grain 
On arid hill-side or Sahara plaiu, 
From equinoctials and the lunar heat ; 
As with the tribes of ignorant conceit 



113 



114 POEMS. 

Rely alone for fructifying powers 

On wealth's rewards and moral saw-dust showers. 

The need momentous is the souls combined 

With quick, electric, cultivated mind ; 

At whose decree economies shall rest 

Beneath profound, inexorable test. 

With no detraction of the highest force 

We speak emphatic for the College course. 

Since history's pages, at each calm review. 

Approve the framers, " wiser than they knew." 

The fostered relish for established fact, — 

The root of structure and the sum exact. 

The mental habits which the schools have shown, 

Wed to the nerves and bred into the bone. 

The days appointed and the tasks assigned 

To try the vigor of the pupil's mind, 

Before a bench of criticizing friends. 

Whose cheering counsel with their censure blends. 

The builded will to check the Fancy's haste. 

And make it wait on judgment and on taste. 

The fine attrition in the class retreat, 

'Mid growths of friendship, — never more so sweet ! 

The duress for self-introspection keen ; 

The hard, remorseless wearing of the green. 

The glorious sovereignty which this drill implies 

To summon, portion, point, and focaHze ; 



TOUCHES AKD HINTS. II5 

Till given topics at the cliosen hours 

Feel the white burning of harmonious powers ; 

With not a faculty allowed to roam 

Till law and contrast drive the statement home. 



Yast opportunities denote, 
The deepening want for men, 

Whose discipline shall antidote 
The shams of speech and pen. 

Whose quenchless passion for the truth 

Shall find a scholar's art, 
As from the fresh, brave soul of youth 

The fit suggestions start. 

Here grandest fruits of sound review 

In physics and in thought. 
With all the lights of Science new, 

Instructingly are brought. 

Here for Life Tournaments we bid. 
With Learning and with Love ; 

Where Logic's iron hand is hid 
Within the knightly glove. 

Priestess of Wisdom! Li whose torch 

The lights of satire play : 
Grant its imparted fires may scorch 

The falsehoods of the dav. 



IIQ POEMS. 

Priestess of Wisdom ! Genial glow 

The censers by thy side ! ,i 

Inspire the God-sons thou shalt know 

With warmth of manly pride ; | 

i 

And guard the children of thy heart, ] 

Linked in a mystic grace, . 

As from thy altars they depart, 1 

To take their waiting place. 

No vaunt of spirit or of mein. 

No over-zeal for strife ; j 

But ready for each earnest scene 

That consecrates a life. 



LIKES, 117 



LINES, 

READ AT ST. John's celebkation, f. and a. m., geeat 

BAKRINGTON, 1858. 

In ancient times, when Israel's king that famous 
fabric reared, 

In which his glory and his wealth so manifest ap- 
peared ; 

He, in his wisdom, first gave heed to Heaven's great 
law to man, 

And Order, beauteous and sublime, through all the 
process ran. 

No sound of axe or metal tool, through all the time 

was heard ; 
No craftsman broke the harmony by one contentious 

word; 
For so the work was portioned out by Solomon the 

wise, 
From comer-stone to capital, no discord could arise. 

Eleven hundred men, thrice told, as Master Masons 
wrought, 

And eighty thousand Fellow-Crafts ^e quarried mar- 
ble sought ; 



118 POEMS. 

While Entered as Apprentices were seventy thou- 
sand more, 

Who, through the progress of the work, the heavy 
burdens bore. 

A vast Fraternity they were — a labor vast to share, 
Who always on the Level met, and parted on the 

Square ; 
And three Grand Masters gave the rules by which 

the work was done ; — 
The King of Israel, King of Tyre, and He — the md- 

ow's son. 

The columns and pilasters were of Parian marble 
wrought ; 

The timbers from the famous groves of Lebanon 
were brought ; 

Of cedar, fir, and olive wood, the stately walls were 
made ; 

And all within, and all without, with gold was over- 
laid. 

Thus, two great structures had a birth ; the one, of 

wood and stone, 
The other, framed and fashioned of Fraternal Love 

alone : 



LINES. 119 

The one was joined in all its parts by cunning work 

of art ; 
The other, by the ligaments that fasten heart to 

heart. 

The one stood out in bold rehef against the vaulted 
sky; 

The other raised no towering front to greet the vul- 
gar eye ; 

The one was all resplendent with its ornaments of 
gold ; 

The other's beauty lay concealed beneath its mystic 
fold. 

Age after age hath rolled away with time's unceas- 
ing tide, 

And generations have been bom, have flourished 
and have died, 

Since wrought our ancient brethren on that Temple's 
massive walls, 

And thronged its lofty colonnades and walked its 
spacious halls. 

Tlie Temple, with its wondrous strength, hath yield- 
ed unto Time. 

The Brotherhood that flourished there, still lives 
and lasts sublime. 



120 POEMS. 

The one, a mere material thing, hatli long since 

passed away ; 
The other holds its vigorous life, untouched by 

Time's decay. 

Long may it live, through coming years its excel- 
lence to prove, 

And Masons ever find dehght in offices of love ; 

Till summoned hence, the glory of that Upper Lodge 
to see. 

When the Grand Master shall confer on each, his 
last degree, 

S. B. S. 



VEBSES. 121 

VEESES, 

BEAD AT ST. JOHN'S CELEBRATION, PITTSFIELD, JUNE, 
1860. 

The muse who is courted scarce once in a year, 
Is apt to grow shy, when you wish she'd draw near. 
Like most other divinities, she too prefers 
To grant wishes of those who pay some heed to hers. 

So I found yester eve, as I made invocation 
For aid in a forthcoming tight situation ; 
For all my advances she met with a slight, 
And said, " Poets, like Masons, had better keep 
bright." 

To compromise matters I promised a sonnet, 
Or some sensation theme, like the new style of bon- 
net, — 
The one lately over from Paris, you know. 
With the vast, overhanging, immense portico ! 

Then the smiles and the frowns o'er her countenance 



But 'twas plain to be seen which would triumph at 

last; 
So she hastily twined this rude garland of song, 
And bestowed it on me — and I brought it along. 



122 POEMS. 

As over life's thoroughfares jostling we go, 

Toward the same fated goal where the dark waters 

flow, 
It is well by the wayside to pause now and then, 
To recall that we're brothers and feel that we're 

men. 

All along on our march, if we will but behold — 
Life's sunny oases their beauties unfold ; 
We may linger to rest and refresh, if we will. 
Like the Craftsman of old, at the brow of the hilL 

"We honor the Order, whose festival day 
Brings the brotherhood hither in gladsome array, 
To join in this ancient, fraternal communion. 
This cordial, old-fashioned Masonic re-union. 

We honor the Order, whose principles dear 
Make each man with his fellow a recognized peer ; 
And whose language of emblem and signal are 

one, 
'Neath a boreal sky and a tropical sun. 

Whose ritual, solemn, antique and subhme ; — 
Outliving its history — lasting as time — 
Still charms and controls with its mystical sway, 
As in Solomon's reign and Zerubbabel's day. 



VERSES. 123 

We honor its tenets, wbicli gladly bestow 

Equal favors on all — on the lofty and low ; 

High as heaven, broad as earth, deep as nethermost 

sea, — 
Even such should a true Mason's charity be ! 

We ope not our portals at wealth's proud behest, 
Nor to fame with her plume and heraldical crest ; 
But to him, high or humble, who honestly brings 
The warm, throbbing heart from which Masonry 
springs ! 

That heart, whether hid 'neath the vesture of toil, — 
'Neath the garb of the peasant who tilleth the soil, 
Or the fabric in which one worm dresseth another, 
We hail it the same as the badge of a brother. 

'Neath the mariner's jacket, afar on the deep, 
You shall test it, and find it is never asleep ; 
'Neath the rude savage breast, when no mortal is 

nigh, 
It is visible still to the All-seeing Eye. 

Its presence is heeded in every zone ; 
By priest on the altar, by prince on his throne ; 
Wheresoever the tribes and the races belong, 
Lo ! Masonry's vast multitudinous throng ! 



124 POEMS. 

'And Masonry's mission : 'tis simply to prove 
'Mid tlie discords of life, how potential is Love : 
To revere what is sacred, to feel what is human, 
To show good will to man and true honor to woman. 

Be it ours in our day to preserve it alive. 

In Faith, Hope and Charity, long may it thrive ; 

Till mankind, in the light of its d(»eds shall agree 

That the whole world one Grand Lodge of Masons 

should be ! 

S. B. S. 



LINES. 125 



LINES, 

EEAD AT ST. JOHN's CELEBRATION, OF EVENING STAR 
LODGE, LEE, MASS., JUNE, 1859. 

(WEITTEN DUBING THE EXEECISES.) 

There's one thing stands exceeding clear, — 

And much as I expected, — 
It comes from West, and South, and East ; 

" My boy, you're just elected ! 
So make a speech, or sing a song ! 

(They say that Cincinnatus 
Presents a chap, who's troubled, too,* 

With — ^very sHght — afflatus r) 

This mom, as Sol rose in the East, 

To call his craft to labor ; 
" Come, come ! " said he, — " it's time for you 

To stir yourself, my neighbor ! 
You know you're of the * Lesser Lights,' 

My adolescent brother ! " 
Said I — " Don't call me that again ; 

If I'm one, you're another ! 



* Another poem was read on the same occasion by F. O. Sayles, 
Esq., of Berkshire Lodge, South Adams. 



126 POEMS. 

Don't think because you closed your Lodge 

So gloriously last even ; 
And left us striving to peer through 

That golden gate to Heaven ; 
And cheered sweet Orient with a smile, 

And, like a gallant lover. 
Dispelled the gloom, and placed instead 
That Koyal Arch above her ; 

Don't think," said I,—" to rise at morn, 

Behind that mask up yonder ; 
And chase our pleasant dreams away 

By muttering so like thunder ! 
And don't — I beg you — don't repeat 

Those tricks in — hydrostatics ; 
Which make poor Luna hide her face, 

And give me such rheumatics ! 

We meant to have a hoHday ; 

A feast of love and reason — 
And celebrate, with right good will. 

This rare old festive season ; 
But how am I to keep the step, 

Or swing a dext'rous gavel. 
With all these twinges at the joints. 

To plague me while I travel ! " 



LINES. 127 

" Come, come ! " the Day-king gave response, 

" Don't fret in sucli a manner ; 
The time is up, and brothers now 

Are rallying 'neath your banner. 
Old Cincinnatus left his plow 

To serve his fellows, gladly ; 
You know the rest — so don't desert 

Your colors quite so badly ! " 

So here I come — all out of breath — 

But if you would " see Sam ; " 
Or ask if he's among this throng, 

I beg to state — " I am! " 
I'm always there, in soul or flesh, 

In spite of adverse weather, 
"Where, in the bonds that bind true heartSj 

True men are met together. 

And very pleasant 'tis to gaze 

On scenes like these, my friends ; 
"Where brothers meet in glad embrace, 

And wit with wisdom blends ; 
Where beauty smiles to crown the feast, 

And music breathes her strain ; — 
"Where youth exults with high impulse. 

And age — is youth again ! 



128 POEMS. 

O, what are all the baubles worth 

We strive to win and save, 
Wliile scrambling, as we blindly do. 

From cradle on, to grave ! 
We go shell-gathering all our days. 

As babes, as boys, as men ; 
While still the solemn question comes, 

" What then ! "—ah, yes ! what then ! 

The time is up ; — chop off the string ! 

Now, join, each grateful brother ! 
And mark, kind friends, who're not of us, 

Hoiv Masons toast each other! 
Our Geneeous Hosts ! all hail to you — 

Te men of high endeavor ; 
And thou— bright Evening Star — shine on. 

Forever — and forever. 

S. B. S. 



TO BELLE. 129 ^ 



TO BELLE. 

SOMETHING WAS AND IS NOT. 

I TAKE the old familiar walk 

To the brow of the pleasant hill, 
From whence we've watched the evening sun 

Its parting rays distil. 
I stand upon the oaken bridge, 

And mark the waters ghde, 
The same as I have seen them, dear, 
When seated at your side. 

And O ! my heart, it wUl go back, — 

I cannot keep it still, — 
I cannot change its tortuous track 
By virtue of my will. 

And I wonder sadly, strangely, 
If there yet a heart may be, 
Whose memories of olden time 
Are somehow linked with me ! 

There's not a bush, or briar, or tree, 

I see no wayside flower, 
But what suggests some thought of thee. 

As of a long-flown hour. 



130 POEMS. 

Kind nature tunes her various voice 

To suit my listening ear ; — 

The breezes do not now rejoice, 

No laughing stream I hear ; 

But a soft and plaintive song is borne 
From the circKng mountain slopes ; 
And the murmuring river seems to mourn 
The dirges of my hopes : — 
As I wonder sadly, strangely, 
If there yet a heart may be, 
Whose pleasant memories of old 
Are somehow linked with me ! 

No hot and feverish state of brain 

Induces me to find 
In yon half-burned and ruined mill 

A picture of my mind. 
Its fallen timbers, charred and black. 

Its flood-gates swept away, — 
Appropriate types they well may seem 
Of my premature decay. 

Through the swollen dam, unceasingly, 

The swollen torrents roll ; 
So pour the streams of inner life 
O'er the embers of my soul. 



TO BELLE. 131 

And I wonder sadly, strangely, 
If there yet a heart might be, 

"Whose memories of olden time 
Are somehow linked with me ! 

If e'er thy feet retrace the paths 
In the meadows and the glade, 
Where oft, in love's communion sweet, 

Together we have strayed ; 
And the thought of an olden time rise up, — 

Thy soul's unbidden guest, — 
Think of me at my best, dearest. 
Think of me at my best. 

For I ne'er shall view the evening sun, 

From the brow of the pleasant hill. 
Or stand upon the oaken bridge. 
Above the ruined mill, 

But I shall wonder, O how sadly ! 

If one noble heart there be. 
Whose tender dreams of bygone scenes 
Are somehow linked with me ! 

C. A. S. 



132 POEMS. 



ATLANTIC CABLE POEM. 

READ AT RECEPTION OF CYRUS W. FIELD, AT STOCK- 
BRIDGE, MASS., AUGUST, 1858. 

Huzza ! the magic cable's laid ; and now, across the 

main, 
Britannia hails her daughter fair, who answers back 

again : 
With lightning flash, through watery depths that 

roll and surge between, 
Columbia's President responds to Britain's smiling 

Queen. 

Rejoice, ye sons of men, rejoice ! the wondrous deed 

is done ! 
The hemispheres, like Siam's Twins, at last are 

joined in one ! 
One little iron Hgament imites each mighty part. 
Through which the swift pulsations throb, as beats 

the planet's heart. 

Now, hand in hand, in warm embrace, the Old World 

and the New, 
As bridegroom and as bride, rejoice in wedlock firm 

and true ; 



A TLANTIC CABLE POEM. 133 

The sea-wave stoops its lofty crest, and kissing 

either shore, 
Consents, the sacred tie shall last till Time shall be 

no more. 

" For ages past," — the sea exclaims, — '' I've all the 
while been fighting 

With might and main, to keep this pair their mar- 
riage vows from plighting ; 

I've tossed and foamed, and roared between, and 
made an awful pother. 

But all for nought ; — e'en now the rogues are whis- 
pering to each other ! 

Hail, mighty Science ! once again we note thy con- 
quering tread, 

And praise thee for this last and greatest blessing 
thou hast shed ; 

For who may count, or comprehend the vast, un- 
measured good. 

That hence shall flow to benefit the world's great 
brotherhood ! 

And thanks, — our heartfelt thanks to them, — the 

men of tireless zeal, — 
Who ventured all, and battled all, t' advance the 

human weal ; 



134 POEMS. 

"Who hoped, and dared, and bravely wrought, 'gainst 

wind, and wave, and storm. 
The grand achievement of the age, in triumph to 

perform. 

The Cyrus of the olden time, for deeds of valor 

done, 
A deathless name emblazoned on the page of 

Xenophon ; 
And school boys now, in solemn quest of ancient 

Grecian lore. 
Peruse his dying speech ; and wish — he'd died an 

hour before ! 

No haughty, steel-clad foeman hath our modern 

Cyrus slain ; 
No thousands of the enemy lie stretched upon the 

plain ; 
A nobler victory by far, our Berkshire boy shall 

claim ; 
A loftier niche is hewn for him within the halls of 

Fame! 

Old Neptune is the vanquished foe ; and he whose 

praise we sing. 
The hero of a bloodless fight, hath conquered 

Ocean's King ! 



ATLANTIC CABLE POEM, 135 

Let old Eolus blow his gales, and Neptune nurse 

liis ire ; 
Our thought shall still dart through the deep, in 

words of living fire ! 

Now, to the mighty Lord of Hosts, all praise and 

glory be, 
Who giveth man to hold enchained, the everlasting 

sea ; 
To tame the Hghtnings, rule the winds, the continent 

to span ; 
Glory to God on high ; and on earth, peace ; good 

will to man ! 

One parting cheer ; — one joyous cheer ; — let all the 

welkin ring ! 
Let all with one accord lift up the voice to praise 

and sing. 
Old Berkshu-e greets the nations all, the islands far 

awa' — 
Three cheers for Field, her gallant son ! Huzza ! 

Huzza ! ! Huzza ! ! ! ^ 

S. B. S. 

* At the delivery of this poem, the assembly all rose and 
joined in the cheer at the conclusion, with splendid effect. 



136 POEMS. 



TWO WEEKS. 



Two WEEKS ago, my dearest dear, — 

It seems as 'twere full many a year ! 

Before, time was a shallow stream ; — 

It deepened in love's radiant beam. 

Before, I felt earth's cares alone. 

Now, sweetest joys and hopes are known. 

All ! what experience can it be 

That fires this finer life in me ? 

Something from out my heart is given — 

Something has filled my soul with Heaven. 

The world's best praise, its slanderous sneer, 

I neither covet now, nor fear. 

O ! what has wrought this mighty change, — 

To me inexplicably strange ? 

Tell me, my dear, for you must know. 

What's passed since two short weeks ago. 

C. A. S. 



LINES. 137 

LINES, 

RECITED AT DEDICATION OF ALUMNI HALL, WILUAMS 
COLLEGE, AUGUST, 1859. 

I MUST confess to something like that same old per- 
turbation, 

Which, very oddly, used to come before the recitation ; 

When called to give some lucid guess about the orbs 
celestial, 

With notions quickened by the gaze of certain orbs 
terrestrial. 

You see, that sanguine autocrat,* (and slightly san- 

gumary). 
Who, thinks, no doubt, the feast is best when most 

the dishes vary — 
Makes game of me ; and brings me here — a sort of 

scapegrace son — 
Along with Colt's artillery t to fire this mi-nute gun ! 



Hard by the spot, where, years ago, Fort Massachu- 
setts stood, 

To keep at bay the savage foe, — ^the red men of the 
wood, — 

* Eev. Dr. Durfee, wlio invited the author to deliver a poem on 
the occasion. 

t Allusion to Hon. J. D. Colt's speech, same occasion. 



138 P0EM8. 

Another fortress stands to-day, its beacon light to 

shed, 
And better read men supersede the red men long 

since fled. 

Thanks to the Colonel ! generous soul, who shelled 

liis substance here ; 
Beheld his comrades' patient toil, and gave them 

words of cheer ; 
Who caught, in hope and faith, some ghmpse of this 

refulgent light ; 
Whose hope is now fruition ; whose courageous faith, 

our sight ! 

'Tis strange how Fortune oft-times lures her very dar- 
lings on, 

And makes them sufferers while they live,, but he- 
roes when they're gone ! 

The jealous dame but dealeth right, and history ceas- 
eth never 

To show how self decays ivith self, but good deeds 
live forever. 

That generous gift bestowed in faith, in fortune's 
darker hour ; — 

Th' assuring voice which faltered not amid the tem- 
pest's power ; — 



LINES. 139 

I tell you, these shall live for aye, embalmed in grate- 
ful story, 

And Ephraim Williams ! thy name blended, — semper 
sit inflore ! 

A hundred years and more have sped since he, our 
founder, died. 

He fell as falls the robust oak — in fulness of his 
pride ; 

Ere Hfe's expandiug bud had fairly opened into 
bloom. 

His soul — swift-summoned — found its God ; his mor- 
tal part, its tomb. 

He could not know, he could not see, in all his fond- 
est dreams, 

How far abroad that Httle torch should send its 
kindly beams ; 

Nor how, through all the centuries, its life-impart- 
ing rays 

Should help illumine isles afar, and set the earth 
ablaze ! 

Behold the lesson, how complete ; the moral, how 

sublime ; 
Behold what simple acts outlive the wasting force of 

Time! 



140 POEMS. ; 

The grandest awe invests our life ; and conscience j 

bids us heed 
What wondrous possibilities attend each thought 

and deed. | 

Come now, my brothers, leap with me the gulf of i 

years between, i 

And pause a moment to survey the beauty of the \ 

scene. i 

Let Memory, smiling through her tears, her garner- 
ed treasures bring, 

And o'er us, let her sister, Hope, her radiant halo ; 

fling. i 

These peerless mountain-monarchs stand, defiant as \ 

of yore, — | 

(The rock-ribbed fogies still insist that tunnels are i 

a bore.) \ 

The sky o'erhead appears to hold its primitive con- j 

dition, ' 

And Green and Hoosic flow as erst, in faithful coali- 
tion. 

But Green and Hoosic float no more the Sachem's ' 

light canoe ; , 

The engine shrieks where once was heard the In- | 
dian's wild halloo ; 



LINES, 14X 

And e'en that sage old cheese, the moon — tho' 
strange may seem the story— 

Comes, tempted by the midnight glass, to our ob- 
servatory. 

And still, here stands Fort Williams; — aye ! I vastly 

like the name ; — 
Our Alma Mater seems a sort of Anglo-Spartan 

dame ; 
Behold her sit with jewelled robes, and many crowns 

upon her, 
To welcome home her gallant sons, and note their 

scars of honor ! 

And hence, upon each natal day, our best of nursing 
mothers 

With hearty benediction sends a class of learned 
brothers ; 

And bids them go where duty calls, wherever that 
may be, 

Throughout our country's broad domain, or far be- 
yond the sea. 

And hither, on each natal day, come fresh men by 

the scores. 
To fill the void, and, in their turn, to tread these 

classic floors ; 



142 POEMS. 

O, liappy youths who thus begin, each with his new- 
found peers, 

To gather the experiences of these bright college 
years ! 

And hither, also, we have come, to hold our brief 
re-union ; 

To meet once more beneath these shades in sweet 
but sad communion. 

Our mother's waist has ampler grown ; more numer- 
ous rise her towers ; 

Her sunshine bringeth sure return in ceaseless gold- 
en showers. 

But, Alma Mater ! as we stand around the family 

tree, 
Thou dost not show us, after all, what most we long 

to see. 
Thy very words of welcome do but send our thoughts 

astray, 
If, haply, we might catch one glimpse of that sweet 

yesterday ! 

The very forms that now respond to names of " auld 

lang syne," 
Bear marks of life's approaching noon, or afternoon's 

decline ; 



LINES. 143 

And others — dear, departed friends ! — old men, and 

youths as well — 
For such the death-star speaks the truth we need 

not words to tell. 

But this we know, who linger yet, our feelings are 

not colder, — 
And Alma Mater more than holds her own, as she 

gi'ows older. 
Upon her brow we find no trace of anxious doubt or 

care; 
Her means of influence multiply, and how can she 

despair ? 

And now to Fortress Williams, a parting toast is 

here ; 
And Alma Mater ; may she live till Time's remotest 

year; 
And long as earth and sea endure, may her renown 

increase ; 
" Her ways be ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 

be peace !" 

S. B. S. 



144 POEMS. 



HELENA. 



I CANNOT praise thine eye, thy form ; 

I cannot tell the faith I place : 
Within thy heart — so kind and warm — 

I could not number every grace. 

My tongue refuses to declare 
The fascinations which I feel ; 

Nay, while the bhssful bond we share, 
Why search the figures on the seal ? 

Our full communion, strong in health, 

No selfish reckoning abides ; 
Open and free we hold our wealth, — 

Not as the miser counts and hides. 

Yet, not in passion's fevered school 
Have we attained our mutual thought ; 

The worthiest judgment bore the rule, 
And into love wise sanction wrought. 

Hours that are past, how close in peace ! 

May years to come our hopes sustain ; 
'Till time's swift river finds release 

Within the unencircled main. 

c. A. a 



VEBSES, 145 



VEKSES, 

READ AT CELEBRATION, 4Tn JULY, 1861, AT GREAT 
BARRINGTON, MASS. 

I THOUGHT it would be SO ! 'Twas only this morning 

A young man approached me and uttered his warn- 
ing ; 

Said he ; " My dear feUow, mind what you're about ; 

If you call round to dine, you'U be surely caUed 
out ! " 

" CaUed out ! " I exclaimed, with perceptible choler — 
"Pray, what do you mean? Don't I hand out my 

dollar? 
May n't I mingle, forsooth, in these festival scenes. 
And punish my share of the SY/eet peas and 

greens ? 

I never fight duels ; — I ne'er was put through 
The diet of pistols and co£fee for two ; — 
So I tell you, my friend, with an emphasis stout, 
I'll be shot if I stand it : — I won't be called out ! " 

"Not so fast ! " said the youth ; — " there's no mahce 

prepense, — 
Take my words in a mild and Pickwickian sense ; 



146 POEMS. 

Do not torture your nerves in such terrible shape — 
I'm trying to help you get out of a scrape. 

You see, years ago, — it's no business of mine — 
But you flirted, they say, with the musical Nine ; 
And gossips still whisper, that if the truth's known, 
You cherished a passion you haven't outgrown. 

And to-day, after dinner, when stomachs are full. 
And people grow heavy, and jokes become dull ; 
Just as likely as not, some sly fellow will shout, — 
* There's a bird that can sing — let us whistle him 
out ! ' " 

"My stars ! " I soliloquized ;— " what shall I do ? 
I can't make a speech after dinner, that's true ; 
And as for a song — well, it might have been worse ; 
As the least of two evils I'll stick to the verse ! " 

So, a national toast, very hastily drest 

In a homespun apparel, and coarse at the best, 

1 bid you be drinking : fill up the glass then. 

And with lips that are loyal shout forth your Amen. 

The Star Spangled Banner ! though traitors would 

rend it, 
With firm hearts and true we will ever defend it ; 



VEESES. 147 

Still proudly upheld, it shall float on the gale, 
Nor one orb in its bright constellation shall pale ! 

While burn in the breasts of their children the fires 
That kindled aforetime the zeal of our sires ; 
We swear that forever, on land and on sea. 
It shall still wave triumphant, the Flag of the free ! 

When the untempered passions that govern the hour, 
Have spent their wild rage and exhausted their 

power ; 
Far aloft, never doubt, up in heaven's free air. 
We shall gaze and thank God that our Flag is still 

there ! 

O ever undimmed may those colors unfold ; 
The red, white and blue, and the spangles of gold ; — 
Still proudly, still firm to the breezes unfurled, 
The hope of the nations ; the joy of the world ! 

S. B. S. 



148 POEMS. 



MEMOEIES. 

A POEM DELIVEKED BEFORE THE ALUMNI OF WILLIAMS 
COLLEGE, AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF 1861. 

Capeicious Muse ! about whose temples throng 
Adepts and bunglers in the art of song ; 
Before whose shrine in loyal homage bent, 
Unnumbered bards their votive gifts present ; 
Behold ; another suppliant stands aloof, 
Impatient, noting each severe reproof 
To hapless mortals, as they venture near, 
" Begone, impostors ! pray — how came ye here ? " 

But list, coy mistress of that wondrous art, 
Which holds such empire o'er the human heart ; 
Before thy smile its magic spell withdraws, 
I plead like Brutus — "hear me for my cause ! " 

In bygone days, ere yet with reverent aAve 

I dared approach the sages of the law : 

Ere yet from day-dreams of my youth I woke. 

To grapple Blackstone, and contend with Coke ; 

To drudge and labor for litigious men, 

"And scrawl strange jargon with the barbarous pen ;'* 

"When hours were golden, and when life was new, 

And all its scenery wore a roseate hue ; 



MEMORIES, 149 

Oh, then, thou know'st, I sought, nor quite in 

vain, 
To weave pet fancies in poetic strain. 
Dame " Technia " might relate, did she but choose, 
What court I paid thee, now reluctant muse ; 
So might her sons, who bid me now essay 
To catch some glimpses of that earHer day ; 
And, home returning, having wandered long. 
To deck these altars with a wreath of song. 
O, then ! in memory of the days lang syne. 
Once more attune this sHghted harp of mine ; 
Touch with thy sceptre its neglected strings, 
Shape these rude numbers as thy supphant sings ; 
Glad with thy presence and auspicious mien 
This rare occasion, this inspiring scene. 

Fratres Alumni ! from each busy sphere 
Once more withdrawing, find we welcome here. 
Here, where aforetime — aye-remembered days — 
The lists we entered for scholastic bays ; 
Gathered from this our mother's bounteous store 
The facts of science, and the classic lore 
Embalmed forever in the glorious tongue 
"Wherein great Homer and Anacreon sung ; 
Here, 'mid these lordly hills, these quiet groves, — 
Scenes of our earlier rivalries and loves — 



150 POEMS, 

"Where unschooled notions caught their chastened 

tone ; 
Where, haply too, some last wild oats were sown ; 
Here, whence departing — boys no longer then — 
"We hailed our first proud impulses as men ; 
Here haply gathered, well I know what theme 
Lends inspiration to each waking dream. 
The realm of Memories, on this day of days, 
Outspreads its landscape to our longing gaze ; 
"While she, its queen, of ever changeful face, — 
Now Ht with smiles — ^now dark with sorrow's trace ; — 
She — Hope's twin-sister — emulous to share 
Our all of hfe — all that we have and are — 
Extends a welcome hand, while thus we own 
Our just allegiance to her mighty throne. 

Blessed of mortals is the man whose heart 
Preserveth ever from the world apart. 
Some choice retreat, within whose sacred walls 
The olden memories hold their festivals. 
Where fond memorials of the past are hung ; 
Where thoughts go clasped with fancies ever young ; 
Echo the lays of home and childhood hours. 
And floats the incense of life's vernal flowers. 
Before whose guarded, tabernacled shrine, 
Maternal prayers attend in shapes divine ; 



• MEMORIES. 151 

And earlier loves, and joys of long ago 
Their sweet notes warble in delicious flow. 

Beneath such mortal's form, howe'er uncouth, 
Be sure, upsprings the fount of endle^ss 3'outh. 
Somewhat that's human, ever in his breast 
Asserts its presence as a constant guest ; 
Something is throbbing, 'neath whate'er disguise, 
That may be touched with generous sympathies. 
Some such kind motor, brothers, — is it not ? 
Hath brought ye hither to this cherished spot, — 
Of old-time scenes, some transient glimpse to gain; — 
Beview the by-gones, and be boys again. 

Memories my theme : Oh ! hst kind friends the 

while ; 
The gentle muse bespeaks your gracious smile. 
Pray don't forget, though this is classic ground, 
And these are scholars, learned and profound ; 
Yet he who seeks your transient thoughts to lure, 
Is no professor, but an amateur. 
Attend, ye doctors ! to the dogs give over 
Doses of physic, while the men recover ; 
"While Pegasus shall limp before your eyes, 
He'll give your patience healthful exercise. 
Hear je^ attorneys ! don't, for once, demur ; 
The muse retains you : charge the fees to her ! 



152 POEMS. 

No doubt she'll serve you as some clients do, 
And i3rove insolvent when the cause is through ! 
Ye reverend clergy ! hearken, I beseech ; 
Give laymen license now and then to preach ; 
Your best of sermons, with the listening throng, 
Have most effect when sandwiched well with song. 
Ye pedagogues ! who wear your nerves all out 
In teaching those " young idiots how to shout," 
Commit a while the text-books to their shelves. 
And frankly own you once were boys yourselves ! 
And thou, sage critic ! drop that dreadful sneer ; 
'Twill be your turn to poetize next year ; 
Beware ! lest I avenge my jealous muse, 
And pluck your plumage — in the " Crowville News ! " 



Sweet memories of childhood hours ! how gratefully 

they steal 
Across our minds, as Time revolves his never-halting 

wheel ; 
The pleasant thoughts that cluster round the old 

paternal home, — 
Be these our priv'leged visitants thro' all the years 

to come ! 

Perhaps it was a humble cot, where frugal meals 

were spread ; 
A plain, unostentatious roof above the infant head ; 



MEMORIES. 153 

Or, maybe, 'twas a mansion proud, around whose 

plenteous board 
A generous hospitality its rich libations poui-ed. 

But whether cot or stately hall, it needs not to in- 
quire ; 

"Whether the boy went barefooted, or clad in rich 
attire ; 

Or whether she who gave him birth, was one of 
haughty air, 

Or patient being, long inured to housewife toil and 
care. 

Ah, no ! it is not circumstance of outward good or 

m, 

Can make our past awake within the sympathetic 

thrill; 
For, whether carved elaborate, or plainly wrought, 

the frame. 
Our memory's faithful portraiture attracts and 

charms, the same. 

That was a proud, eventful day, when first the hope- 
ful son 

Forsook the age of baby frocks, and put those 
trousers on ! 



154 POEMS. 

'Twas on a pleasant Sabbath morn : e'en now it 

makes me smile 
To think how grand he marched to church, and 

strutted up the aisle ! 

That jacket, with the buttons on! their brilliance, 

I'll be sworn, 
Beat every badge or epaulette the fellow since has 

worn; 
And there were pockets big enough for knife, and 

top, and string — 
The boy was hero then, be sure, and happy as a 

king. 

And you'll remember, like enough, about that fa- 
mous sled, 

With hickory runners, natural crook, and painted 
very red. 

'Twas christened the " Excelsior," or some eupho- 
nious name. 

And had, upon the school-house hill, a quite distin- 
guished fame. 

And when you coasted, after school ; — I hope you 
won't deny — 

'Twill do no harm to own it now, but boys are pre- 
cious sly — 



MEMORIES 155 

'Twas quite your liabit, out of which perhaps some 

others grew, 
To offer little Jane a chance to sHde doT\Ti hill with 

you! 

That ancient school-house holds a place in memory 
still, I trow. 

Where tasks seemed so impossible, and time so 
dreadful slow ; 

Where " Webster's Elementary " was sadly dogs- 
eared o'er, 

And Peter Parley — good old soul — became an awful 
bore ! 

And if, perchance, you overstepped that most pre- 
posterous rule, 

And stood convicted of the crime of whispering in 
school ; 

Ah, me! what childish penitence came trembling 
from your tongue, 

As o'er your head, " you rascal, sir ! " that birchen 
sceptre swung ! 

Those well-worn desks, if standing yet, I'll venture 

to declare, 
Along their honored surfaces, your famed initials 

bear. 



156 POEMS. 

You tliouglit it was a clever job, done up exceeding 

brown; 
But now, the letters stand askew, and one is upside 
• down ! 

Of merry Christmas hohdays, shall I forget to 

sing? 
When Santa Claus a fresh supply of gifts was sure 

to bring ; 
When all the household was aglow with festive mirth 

and glee, 
And each young urchin donn'd his wreath, and 

decked his Christmas tree. 

Those rows of stockings, round the hearth, arranged 

with partial care ; — 
What wondrous faith in dear St. Nick's ubiquity 

was there ! 
How oft we strove to keep awake, so haply we might 

hear 
The clattering sound on housetop, of the phantom 

sledge and deer ! 

And how, as morning dimly dawned, with emulous 

desire, 
Besounded merry welcomings to loving dame and 

sire; 



MEMORIES. 157 

And o'er each treasure brought to light, its new pos- 
sessor gloried, 

And in its turn each stocking-full was duly invento- 
ried. 

The feast, too, was a grand affair ; when all the aunts 
and cousins 

Were congregated round the board in numbers told 
by dozens. 

No Saratoga can restore to us dyspeptic sin- 
ners 

The appetites that lent the sauce to those prodig- 
ious dinners ! 

The old church, with its moss-grown tower, whose 

structure you believed 
The grandest architectural feat the race had e'er 

achieved. 
Has now a double sacredness, as, after years have 

sped, 
You see what kindly influences about your path it 

shed. 

How grateful on the list'ning ear, on Sabbath morn- 
ing, fell 

The never-failing summons of the sweet church-go- 
ing bell — 



158 POEMS. 

The old church-bell ! how, latterly, with pleased sur- 
prise, you own 

What else-neglected memories wake in freshness at 
its tone ! 

There, in the wonted place of prayer, and thankful 
praise, and song, 

You lent a happy, youthful face to that familiar 
throng. 

There oft you stayed with Sabbath-school and vil- 
lage-choir, at noon. 

And learned the sacred lesson, and the good old- 
fashioned tune. 

The gathered throng of worshipers is vastly changed 

to-day ; 
And many a face is older grown, and most have 

passed away. 
The venerable forms you knew, as rapid years have 

sped, 
Have, one by one, betaken them to regions of the 

dead. 

The parson and the chorister have gone their sev- 
eral ways ; 

Another voice from pulpit now, its messages con- 
veys; 



MEMORIES. 159 

And Doctor Watts, in some" absurd, fantastic garb, 

you see, 
Whose quaint old costumes charmed you once — 

sweet Corinth, and Dimdee ! 

Yet, sometimes, as the ancient bell from out the 
steeple rings. 

And Signor Fiddle-faddle' s choir some old-time an- 
them sings ; 

Once more your pulses beat response to welcome 
peal and strain, 

And home, and youth, and all the dear old past are 
back again ! 

O, all ye scenes of boyhood days ; what stories ye 
could tell 

Of joys ye mutely witnessed once, of griefs that once 
befel ; 

Yet long as time's dominion lasts, it shall not be dis- 
covered 

Around each spot what cherished thoughts and 
memories have hovered. 

There's many a patch of earth beneath the over- 
spreading sky, 

Presents no feature to allure the casual passer- 
by; 



160 POEMS. 

It is but acre, house and barn, to his unthinking gaze, 
Who sees it unillumined with the light of other days ; 

Yet, somewhere, over earth's expanse, there gleams 

a human face. 
Gleams ever with a brighter glow, at thought of that 

loved place ; 
To him, how truly picturesque its scenery appears, 
Up through the length'ning vista of irrevocable 

years ! 

There was the wanderer's early home ; there, oft in 

blissful dream, 
Again he sports upon the knoll, or paddles in the 

stream ; 
There each remembered rock and tree its vigil seems 

to hold 
O'er sacred memories of the past — the scenes, the 

times of old. 

This makes the poetry of life ; O, doubt not, gra- 
cious friends. 

On each and all — in some rare moods — the gentle 
muse descends. 

Alas ! our words can ne'er repeat those finer strains 
that roll 

Their sweet Eolian harmonies across the captive soul. 



MEMORIES. 161 

Enough for us, if, now and then, some power the 

sense o'erwhelms. 
And tenderly uplifts us into bright, ethereal realms ; 
And almost, in strange melodies, we feel to us is 

given 
To catch dehcioas echoes of the symphonies of 

Heaven. 



To merrier measure and rollicking rhyme, 
The versatile muse bids our fancy keep time ; 
TVliile, just for the moment, we pass in review 
Some prominent scenes which, as students, we knew. 

Our college remembrances ; — bless thee, our mother ! 
Who mad'st us thy children, and each son a 

brother — 
Not least of thy bounties we reckon the tether 
Which binds us as parts of one household together. 

Those years spent in college — how brimming the 

cup 
Which their fond reminiscences serve to fill up ; 
No fraction of life-time contributed more 
To the treasures our memory holdeth in store. 

And gladly to-day, as we joyfully meet, 

The old-time acquaintance and class-mate to greet, 



162 POEMS. 

I hail the occasion, and bid ye retrace 

The fancies that clamor for uppermost place. 

Come, then, fellow-students, and banish your fears ! 
Who cares that your Latin has rusted for ^^ears ! 
Let Pegasus furnish your " pony " and " Smart ;" 
The lesson's an old one ; we'll have it by heart. 

No matter to-day how your scholarship stands ; 

I tell you, the record's in excellent hands ; 

And as to who " flunked," or with " honors " was 

flush, 
I've some personal reasons for keeping that hush. 

That verdant young Freshman : — he's since become 

" Colonel," 
Or "M. C," or "Judge," or the "boss" of a 

journal ; 
" Professor," or what-not ; — but wasrCt he green, 
When he came on to college, a youth of sixteen ! 

How all the societies bored and beset him. 

To see if he'd do, and then — if they could get him. 

How kindly the graduates put him in trim, 

And sold at one bargain their bedsteads and — him ! 

How proud when accepted, and bidden to come, 
He started in quest of his room, and his chum. 



MEMORIES. 153 

How grandly West College loomed up to his view ; — 
Of its dense population, how little he knew ! 

How the Sophomores grinned as he scampered down 
stairs 

At the first chapel bell, the first morning, for pray- 
ers. 

How he solved from that moment the mystery deep, 

How to make most of time, and economize sleep. 

How he passed each ordeal of practical joke ; 
Discovered how blarney ends often in smoke ; 
And when Sophomores raised their tumultuous din, 
And shouted " Heads out !" learned to keep hia head 
in! 

And, oh, human nature ! — the same evermore — 
How he rehshed the fun, as he reckoned it o'er ; 
And resolved the whole farce should be stoutly re- 
vived. 
Just as soon as the next batch of Freshmen arrived. 

How, little by little, 'mid college routine. 
Some marked metamorphoses came to be seen ; 
And the youth of last year, very verdant and raw, 
Came to have, in some sphere, quite distinguished 
edat. 



164 POEMS. 

Perhaps, my dear sir, — you know best as to that — 
Ton became college champion, with ball and with 

bat; 
Perhaps, when you spouted your maiden oration. 
They dubbed you next " MoonHght "^ with loud ac- 
clamation. 

Perhaps you were famous for muscle ; and so 
"Whenever the class above yours, or below. 
Undertook their superior force to declare, 
It was deemed quite essential that you should be 
there. 

Perhaps, from an awkward, unpromising clown. 
You became the Beau Brummel of college and town. 
No doubt there were chaps who knew more of Greek 

roots. 
But you beat them all hollow on neck-ties and boots ! 

Perhaps you grew partial to serpents and hzards ; 
Caught innocent birds, and extracted their gizzards ; 
Of the College Museum became the curator. 
And of natural science, a learned revelator. 

Perhaps, of the transits you sought to be certain, 
And as each night uprolled its magnificent curtain, 

* Prize speakers at Williams are called "Moonlights." 



MEMORIES. 165 

You swung that huge opera-glass on its bars, 
Tow'rd the orbs overhead for theatrical stars. 

Perhaps, of companions right jocund and boon, 
You thought more than you did of the man in the 

moon; 
And while your old chum was intently star-gazing, 
Perhaps — maybe not — but perhaps, you were " haz- 



Perhaps you loved ease, and were wont to invoke 
Your quiet day-dreams 'mid the incense of smoke ; 
While, according as fancies grew brighter or duller. 
So glowed the pet meerschaum ; — pray, how did it 
color ? 

Perhaps with all book-lore your mind was imbued, 
Excepting the text-books ; and those you eschewed. 
So, despite all the treasures you tried to amass. 
You reigned without peer at the foot of the class ! 

But the muse must forbear ; though each actor and 

scene 
Might be colored afresh in her patent machine ; 
She remembers her mission ; 'tis but to suggest. 
While your fancies, thus quickened, accomplish the 

rest. 



166 POEMS. 

Then, once more, ye classic scenes, hail and fare- 
well ! 
Around ye for aye shall our memories dwell ; 
Nor shall absence nor distance their potency prove, 
For these time-honored places to 'minish our love. 

And lingering now, with these pictures before me, 
"Warm, filial emotions steal pleasantly o'er me , 
And I seem in glad vision to recognize one,^ 
Whom to know, was to yield him the heart of a son. 

O, smooth be the seas and auspicious the gales, 
That shall bear up the ship and enliven the sails ; 
And again, home-returned from Europa's far shore, 
To these scenes and high duties, his presence restore ! 

And long be the seasons, while yet in his might. 
He shall live to do battle for truth and the right ; 
Till at last, with the great souls departed, at rest. 
Thou shalt take him, dear Father, to homes of the 
blest! 



Of tender memories, fain the muse, 
As pensively the past she views. 

From out her store of fragrant fancies, 
A wreath — a delicate wreath, Avould choose. 

* President Hopkins, then absent in Europe. 



MEMORIES. 167 

Bomantic memories ; say, proud sir, 

Was aught so sweet of joys that were, ] 

As troth to thee by fair one plighted, 1 

And thine, right loyally pledged to her ? ' 

How bhssful were the moments spent i 

At eve, to loving converse lent. 

Beneath the stars, whose roguish twinkle j 

Lumined the gorgeous firmament. ■ 

Perchance beneath the trysting tree. j 

Perchance beside the sobbing sea. 

Perchance where all the valley echoes 
The rivulet's laughter, wild and free ; ' 

Perchance in bower, perchance in grove, j 

In cloistered court or dim alcove ; ^ 

O, ever somewhere, somehow ever ■ 

Gushes the tremulous syllable — Love ! ' 

I wot she was a maiden fair, | 

Her bonny face was free from care. 

How most angehc seemed each feature, — 
How like a halo her wreathed hair ! 

And eyes of brown or azure hue J 

Bespoke a nature fond and true ; ; 

A heart that should, with glad endeavor, j 

Battle the ills of life with you. 



168 POEMS. 

How oft you mused with hands enclasped. 
Conversed of present joys, and past, 

And hopefully, through all the future, 
Happy, adventurous vision cast. 

The numerous years, perchance, have flown, 
Since first you caught the thrilling tone. 
From maiden lips so softly faltered, 
Yielding a heart that was all your own. 

The lips have lost their ruby now. 
That erst pronounced the hallowed vow ; 

And time has since, with ruthless finger 
Written his autograph on that brow. 

Perchance — more sad — that form hath found 
Its last repose low in the ground ; 

And Death, remorseless, holds your treasure 
Hidden beneath a grassy mound. 

And sometimes, as you chance to trace, 
In childhood's all-unconscious face, 

Some hkeness of that fond companion, 
Summoned from thine to Christ's embrace ; 

Fain from itself the soul would flee ; 
For of God's rare gifts to such as we, 

I almost seem to hear you sighiag, 
*' Saddest of all is Memory ! " 



MEMORIES. 169 

Of patriot memories in this trying hour, 
When bold-faced treason dares assert its power ; 
When faithless sons, with sacrilegious guilt, 
Assail the structure which their fathers built, 
The muse might sing, if need were, to instil 
In hearts like these a nobler zeal and will. 
What glorious memories ! how they cluster round 
Each towering shaft and olden battle-ground. 
What golden letters upon history's page 
Immortalize the hero and the sage. 
Who saved our country from oppression's load, 
And made her Freedom's favorite abode ! 
What memories hover o'er that ensign proud. 
Whose stripes and stars above the battle cloud, 
In Freedom's dawn, and high-advancing day, 
In glory shone, to glory led the way ! 
Beneath that banner, how, with lapse of time. 
Our land hath gained a prestige more sublime 
Than in historic annals can be told 
Of all the empires and the states of old. 
Happy Columbia ! with thy memories crowned. 
Though traitors lurk, and envious foes surround, 
Yet who that builds thee in his heart a shrine, 
But feels — aye, knows — the victory shall be thine ! 
Those very memories shall thy helmet be, 
Thy sword, thy shield, thy scathless panoply. 



170 POEMS. 

Hapless tlie foe, confronts such shining mail ! 
His arm must wither, and his courage fail. 
Said I, " his courage ? " — 'tis that desperate kind, 
"Which goes by stealth, and, trembling, looks be- 
hind. 
It is such courage as would fell to earth 
The very form of her who gave him birth. 
It is such courage as would pierce the breast, 
On which in infancy his face was pressed. 
Or level prostrate with insensate clods. 
His fireside altars and his household gods. 
Oh ! sure as truth, and truth's eternal laws, 
We hail the issue of so righteous cause, 
And see before, as with prophetic eye. 
The grand result— the glorious victory. 

And that great victory ; would that it might come 
By war unheralded, or roll of drum. 
Nay ; better, happier, nobler might it be. 
As from her tripod hints the Muse to me. 



In the fullness of time I behold in my vision 
How a people betrayed shall yet utter their cry ; 
How the South, their false leaders shall set in 

derision, 
And pronounce their pet dogma an infamous lie. 



MEMORIES, 



171 



Then again, I foresee, how from fertile savannah, 
And happy plantation, with grateful accord. 
All voices shall swell the resounding hosanna — 
Hail, blessed re-union ; praise, praise to the Lord ! 

Then with hearts not more brave than magnani- 
mous ever, 

The sons of the North, with a brotherly grasp, 

And a welcome embrace that no traitor shall 
sever. 

The sons of the South shall right joyfully clasp. 

Then Memory, her mystical chords shall re-waken, 
And penitent children shall weep to behold 
How precious the boon they had almost forsaken, 
How priceless the birthright they almost had sold ! 

Thou God of our fathers ! O hasten the season. 
When once again Memory her incense shall burn 
On altars now dim, and when calm-visaged Reason, 
To the throne she deserted, shall once more return. 

Then as ever, Columbia, advancing in glory. 
Of the faith in this trial her children possessed, 
To unborn generations shall transmit the story, 
"Who shall rise up to call us — their forefathers — 
blest! 



172 POEMS. 

Of grand old memories, such as live sublime 

In olden history, or in classic rhyme ; 

Of legend memories, haply passed along 

In dim tradition, or unlettered song ; 

Of local memories, we have cherished well 

In curious tales we heard our grandams tell — 

Of ghost and spectre — dusky squaw and chief, — 

Tales wonder-fraught and staggering belief ; 

Of social memories, gratefully restored 

In rare re-unions round the festive board ; — 

Of each and aU, the Muse would gladly sing. 

But Time speeds onward with resistless wing ; — 

So I must cease ; and now to you, dear friends. 

The grateful Muse, the parting hand extends. 

Your warm assurance, overcame her fear ; 

Your partial kindness introduced her here ; 

What thoughts and feehngs she hath well expressed 

Eemember kindly, and forgive the rest. 

S. B. S. 



A POEM. 173 



POEM 

DELIVEKED BEFORE I. 0. O. F., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., 
1863. 

Why man tlirougli mourning must his joys enliance; 

His reason vaunting, yet commit to chance ; 

"Why Hope paints pictures for minds immature 

"Which manly learnings change not, but obscure, — 

In fainter Hght leaves youth's ideals to men. 

To mock what now is, with what might have been ; 

Why men despise the thing, revere the form ; 

In sunshine cowards, heroes in the storm, — 

Self-torturing, with a vague, fictitious harm. 

While hfe's broad sea is mirrored in a calm. 

Rising with strength from morbid fancy's threat, 

As serious dangers compass and beset ; 

Why words by moral costumers are made 

Dark dominos in life's grand masquerade, — 

Not all concealing, yet a full disguise ; 

Why single names form constant compromise 

'Twixt good and evil, simple truth and lies : 

" Prudent,'' the misers' favorite maxim-cry. 

By which the world commends them when they 

die, — 
WhHst "Generous," "Noble," "Liberal" and "Just" 
Are terms the poor pass to the rich, on trust, — 



174 POEMS. 

With " Enterprise," tlie letter-shield of lust, 

And " Charity," incarnate in a crust ! 

Why sweet content deserts the Monarch's throne, 

And claims the peasant's cottage as her own ; 

Why harmony of thought is frequent found 

Amid the discords of contentious sound ; 

Wliy calms, proverbial, coming storms presage, 

And are but omens of a day of rage, — 

At present peace foreshadowing a curse 

Which Envies in the deeps of stillness nurse ; 

Why Sciences pretentiously exact, 

Place " new discoveries " on the roll of fact, 

Which soon their venerated being give. 

That one, firm, honest, steadfast Truth may live, — 

Since, brought in contact, they themselves conflict, 

And point in focus what they contradict ; 

Why great inventions follow in the wake. 

And often seem the creatures of mistake ; 

Why rehshed sin adopts the mode and time 

Sought or selected by compunctious crime ; 

Why sin's last patent notches the degree 

At which the average moral stand must be ; 

Why failure in the marts of trade is less 

A synonym for ruin than success ; 

Why he who seeks peremptory relief 

Upon the highway may be 'held a thief, 



A POEM. 175 

Whilst he who plunders from the public vaults 

Is merely weak, and amiable in faults ; 

Why the sage public o'er a fancy frets 

While Christian churches dance away their debts ; 

Why creedless wits, who flatulently sneer 

At every dogma which the mass revere, 

Attain to fame upon the false pretense 

Of doing honor to man's common sense ! — 

These daily mysteries in the mighty plan 
That shapes the growth and discipHne of man ; 
These lighter, modern marvels, which, perchance, 
Are sample offspaing of strange circumstance ; 
These contrasts, inconsistencies and frauds 
Hypocrisy induces, or applauds, 
Contribute in a ratio and concert 
To fashion e\il we may not avert ; 
Produce conditions in our social state 
Philosophies explain not, nor abate ; 
Uncertain render temporal needs and gains, 
Debauch our comfort and increase our pains ; 
Confusion cast where purposes are just. 
And cripple courage with a hard distrust ; 
The private and the public prospects shroud 
With almost an impenetrable cloud, — 
The veil which hides the future from our sight 
Prefix with gloom and deepen into night ; — 



176 POEMS. 

Add to the blindness nature's laws decree 
A sad misgiving that the worst will be. 

A Faith divine may raise the mind serene 
Above the trials of this earthly scene ; 
A heavenly Hope may bring the soul repose 
Amid the sternest of our mortal woes, 
And build a patience that will bravely bear 
The ills of time, the promptings of despair. 

Yet learn we not from that same gracious Book 
Within whose pages saints devoutly look 
To find this glorious Faith and Hope revealed ; 
The corner-stone of Promise has been sealed 
With this inscription, — With the race began 
The Universal Bkotheehood of Man ! 

At once to aid the spirit in its strife 

For noblest elements in human life, 

And all the energies of soul incite 

To study and exemplify the Eight ; 

With righteous thought a worthy practice suit, 

Confirm and nurture honest faith with fruit ; 

Interpret into acts, enlarge the scope 

And purify the properties of hope ; 

An actual beneficence educe 

By schools of principles explained through use ; 



A POEM. 177 

In systematic effort teach and prove 

The base and product of a cathoHc love ; 

Eemind the aged, educate the youth 

As to the beauty and the power of truth ; — 

With these grand objects, those who seek will find 

Odd-Fellowship in wisdom was designed. 

With no less purpose did our fathers build 
This sacred Order ; — in whose terms fulfilled, 
Themselves and then- true children have been 

blest ; — 
Their memor}^, immortal, stands confest, 
Well w^orthy of the reverence we pay 
In every ceremonial act to-day. 

Our honored Fathers ! let no one presume 
To think by words he can their names illume. 
What of their fitting eulogy we claim 
Has not been written in the Order's fame. 
'Twould be unseemly to attempt to write, — 
'Tis blazoned elsewhere, in the realms of light. 
In chapters which no earthty eye can trace. 
Their -work, unwritten here, has glorious place : 
A work obedient to the Order's laws, 
Or instigated in its noble cause ; 
A w^ork of Friendship, so divinely odd, 
Its record the prerogative of God ! 



178 POEMS. 

A work which, in the harvest hour of time 
Shall be proclaimed in sweet, celestial rhyme ! 

We boast of Progress, and we vastly prize 
The culture of the arts that civilize. 
We pride ourselves that we were haply born 
Where science strides and literatures adorn. 

Material Greatness is the pubHc theme : 
The popular motives are condensed in steam. 
Each fresh advancement in mechanic skill 
Inflames conceit and magnifies the will. 
Once fairly harnessed, genius can prepare 
New uses for the elements in air — 
Not OS of old the marriage rites perform, 
But with the tokens and the bolts of storm ; 
Wing Cupid's arrows with electric fires, — - 
To Hymen's service consecrate the wires ; 
The bands the Grecians thought fau' Yenus wove, 
Snatch from her fingers and commit to Jove ; 
And, for the tariff which the law allows. 
Transmit and register connubial vows ; 
Audacious 'gainst the ancient saying's force : 
Wliom Lightnings marrj^, Thunders will divorce I 

We boast of Wealth ! The privilege to amass 
Enjoyed exclusive by no favored class. 



A POEM. 179 

E-iches increasing at enormous rate, 

And swiftly swelling such an aggregate 

That, within reason, it must surely seem 

To far outstrip the miser's wildest dream. 

We know, of late, the precious ores are found 

In such profusion as affords no ground 

For accurate reckoning of prospective yield ; 

But, from the recent opulence revealed, 

E'en the imaginative broker lords 

Fail singly guessing what theii' tunnel hoards, — 

The sum, so fab'lous, to approximate 

With giant digits — must incorporate ! 

We boast of multiplying paths of trade. 

On which with speed large revenues are made ; 

Paths so direct, so very smooth and wide, 

The poor to fortune regularly ride ; — 

Since any knave may pelt his dupe with rocks, 

Then thrust his swollen feet in public stocks. 

We boast the glory of our common schools ; 

With great " improvements " made by modern 

rules. 
Where the stout implements which were in vogue 
As fit correctives for a truant rogue, — 
To spur the slothful, break the stubborn will, 
And measured lessons thoroughly instill, — 



130 POEMS. 

Have been converted in their uses here 

T' instructive " objects," from dire things of fear ! i 

The lash or rod, which once was thought, for- i 

sooth, 
A natiu'al stimulant for the sluggish 3'outh, — 
When well applied, most potent to obtain 
The greatest product from each pupil's brain, — 
Is now employed by every teaching Miss, ; 

As in the new Mnemonic synthesis, 

Hinting not only what its source must be, ] 

But every purpose of the ox or tree. :) 

Not to the physical emotions bring, j^ 

On sight, suggestions of a mortal sting, i 

But sage suggestions, — which may grow apace 

All planetary " objects " to embrace ! 

"I 

We boast a cheap, efficient, speedy mode ^ 

Of granting justice through a civil code : \ 
Whose terms provide that suitors, who may feel 

Aggrieved at first decisions, can appeal .) 

To grand tribunals, where each concrete case , 

Is aptly furnished with an abstract face ; ^ 
Wliere facts are " features," and the counsel's whims 

Concerning cognate issues are the "limbs." ] 

Where lawyers — like experienced miners — fight ' 
For claims which merely have the color, Right, 



A POEM. 181 

"V^Tiere skillful logic is employed to show 

The various errors of the court below ; 

And history, like a criminal arraigned 

To show the reason why they are — sustained. 

Or the emergencies of present hours 

Are plead to prove discretionary powers. 

But where by judgments we are not beguiled, — 

Unless they are through inadvertence filed. 

Cheap is the mode ! 'Twas Solomon's advice : 
My son, get wisdom at whatever price. 
Efficient ! Since it thoroughly conveys 
Essential knowledge in eccentric ways, — 
Aiding the mind by each peculiar turn 
To hold the lesson it deserved to learn. 
And speedy ! When the value and amount 
Of wisdom gained is taken in account. 

We boast a penal code ; which seems to shed 
Abundant mercy on the felon's head. 
His prison roofed by statutory laws 
With open sky-lights of ingenious flaws ; 
His dungeon door barred gently, on a catch, 
Till " justice " nimbly lifts the legal lache ! 

With conscious pity are our minds imbued 

For those who lived when social laws were crude. 

When needs were simple, when the arts were rude. 



182 P0EM8. 

'Twere stupid Folly's part to deprecate 

Outspoken pride at our advancing state, 

In all that make convenience, comfort, ease, 

Save time and labor, or tlie senses please. 

A healthy sentiment of pride is part 

Of all appreciative sense of Art ; 

And great discoveries in themselves denote 

To-day's advantage which they must promote, — 

CompeUing us with flattery to contrast 

The present progress with the ignorant past. 

Our education, and a force inborn, 
Tempt us to see primeval times with scorn ; 
And with an ever ready reverence bow 
Before the genius of Imperial Now ! 

Thus do we fail to keep in prudent mind, 

Favors and burdens are alike assigned ; 

Thus do we fail to practically own, 

With social progress social cares have grown ; 

Ignore, or — equally at fault — forget. 

As our advantage, so our civil debt ; 

As the complexities of life increase, 

So must man's labor for the public peace. 

Our Fathers, with a present and a prescient view. 
Which history clearly outlined and which reason drew. 



I 
I 



A POEM. 133 

Felt and forecast necessities of deepening weight 

For some grand system that should serve to miti- 
gate 

The individual penalties of common sin, 

And Knk our neighbors in the ties and bonds of kin. 

— For in their skillful, moral plan, they recognize 

Anarchial dangers from mere, sordid enterprise. 

— The holy impulse which their hearts and con- 
science fired, 

Seems to have almost made their beauteous work 
inspired ; 

And following history, thro' a lengthened lapse of 
time, 

Has crowned their efforts as successful and sublime ! 

Then, brothers ! let us votive offerings bring, 
While manual outHnes we attempt to sing ; — 
Now, while we celebrate a natal morn, 
And larger Opportunities are born ; 
Now, when our banner proudly is unfurled. 
And we avow our precepts to the world. 

Come, Stranger ! ere ye seek a closer name. 
Lend audience to the doctrines we proclaim : 

How do we learn our life ? how read the page. 
As Time's hard finger quickly throws it o'er ? 



184: POEMS. 

With what reflections do we grow in age, 
And near the sands of th' inevitable shore ? 

Full soon we find that Heaven has well decreed 

To every man his own peculiar fate : 
With following hours contrasting thought and deed ; 

With years all barren, and with moments great. 

Full soon we learn a law of equal birth. 
To which, without incongruous act, we give 

A holier homage in the scenes of earth : 
Unto himself no man can truly live. 

A thousand times the precious truth we hear ; 

Still from our practice it remains concealed ; 
Till blessed sorrow makes our wants appear, 

And all adapted uses are revealed. 

The general lessons gathered 'mid the din 
Of worldly conflict, triumph or defeat. 

Provoke the " Delphic Oracle within," 
To call the mind to Fellowship's Retreat. 

Not to the hut of hermit or recluse. 

Where misanthropic sentiments are nursed ; 

Not to retirements where the mean excuse 
For selfish ease is Avarice's sated ihirst : 



A POEM. 185 ; 

But to the cloistered company of those 

Whose purpose is to thoroughly equip ' 
Good soldiers for the battles 'gainst life's woes, — 

That test the champions of Odd-Fellowship. { 

Here, man is separated from the world ; i 

No longer burdened with fictitious cares ; j 

No more within Dissension's eddies whirled ; i 
No longer threatened by Ambition's snares. 

Here, Yice no more is potent to allure ; \ 

Here, Hates and Envies can no more alarm ; j 

Here, every object, motive, work is pure, i 
And Virtue's signet is the regal charm ! 

Here, Love and Friendship hold the sovereign \ 
sway,— 

Their mild dominion gloriously assert : 

Thy promise all their precepts to obey i 

Insures the benediction they concert. 

Here, Faith and Charity combine to bless \ 

The weary mind with heavenly balm of Peace ; 

Assuage with sympathy the heart's distress, — ■ 

For sorest trouble give or point release. ] 

Should any round this sacred altar bow \ 

Who will not cherish what they here declare ; '\ 



X36 POEMS. 

Who will not follow the initiate's vow 

With earnest hopes in resolution's prayer ; 

Presumptuous Mortal ! Wouldst thou dare approach 
Where on the recreant falls a fearful ban ? 

Canst thou a talismanic secret keep ? — 
Then show the fortitude becomes a man ! 

Alas for man ! In darkness and in chains, 
In moral blindness and by passions bound : 

A mournful spectacle where folly reigns, 
And wisdom's voice is an unheeded sound. 

There is a time most fitting to confess — 
Wlien stern ordeal of trial is at hand — 

The grievous errors which the mind oppress, 
And give to conscience sceptres of command. 

O ! sad remembrances of wrong, awake ! 

Now is the hour, repenting, to reveal 
The sins which by their recollection break 

From retrospect the dark, funereal seal. 

If ever thou hast mean advantage gained ; 

O'er-reached thy fellow with a plann'd deceit, — 
His honor blasted while in friendship feigned, 

His fortune ruined by a studied cheat ; 



A POEM. 187 

If thou hast robbed the widow's house, and made 
Long prayers in pubHc an availing cloak 

Against that knowledge thou wer't well afraid 
Would just and quick retributive provoke ; 

If thou hast caused the orphan's tears to flow, 
Hast sought his golden portion to purloin ; 

And then, a savoring charity to show. 

Heaped shallow saucers with the smallest coin ; 

O ! answer truly, — at thy soul's expense ! 

Confess, if guilty, and at once retire : 
For else than innocent of grave offence 

Thou mayst not bide the dreadful track of fire ! 

Life's painful end life's duties best can teach. 

Emblems of mortal strugghng and of death 
The heart not lost to human hope must reach, 

And touch the conscience with compunctious 
breath. 

He who is fit and able to endure 

The early discipline of bonds and night, 

Deseiwes for recompensing to procure 
The fullest liberty and clearest light. 

In this true Light may Brothers ever walk ; 
This Liberty without abuse enjoy. 



188 POEMS. 

May no false signals tempt tliem but to mock. 
No sensual cliarms solicit and destroy. 



Hail ! master workmen, wlio to-day unite 

In services of dedicating power. 
In ample form conduct tlie solemn rite, ''■ 

And consecrate tlie building and the hour. 

May the grand invocations which ye raise 
The gracious favor of our God obtain ; 

And may your choral symphonies of praise 
Ascend to Heaven in an accepted strain. 

From out the bustle of the crowded street, 
From out the tumult of the business mart. 

May yonder house be our beloved retreat, — 
The home we cherish with the mind and heart. 

Within its walls may harmony abound ; 

May Honor's court be firm established there ; 
May royal truth be there enthroned and croAvned, 

And glorious visions for her sons prepare ! 

O ! may our brethren be exceeding glad 
Before the shrine erected there to wait ; — 

In regal vestitures of scarlet clad, 

Hejoice to stand within our temple's gate I 



A POEM, 139 

Brotlier, Grand Herald of the North ! Pro- 
claim 
A consecration in pure FKiENDSHrp's name ; 
And, sprinkling water, dedicate this place 
To constant practice in that heavenly grace. 

Brother, Grand Herald of the South ! Approve 
This work, — a Temple of enduring Love ; — 
And typify our kindled hearts' desu'es 
With brilliant lightings of the altar fii-es. 

Brother, Grand Herald of the East ! Declare : 
Here Truth's good seed shall fall, and spring and 

bear 
An hundredfold, — to widely save and bless, 
And wreathe with honor in a risht success. 



"O' 



Brother, Grand Herald of the West ! Foretell : 
Faith, Hope, and Charity alike shall dwell 
Within these consecrated scenes of ours ; 

And fill the common air 
AVith fragrant incense, as the scattered flowers 

Breathe perfumes everywhere. 

And Brothers all ! Unite in earnest prayer 
That this grand work may have a heavenly 
care : 



190 POEMS. 

That with the Father's blessing, this good Order 

may increase, — 
"Whose ways are ways of pleasantness, and all 

whose paths are Peace." 

C. A. S. 



LINES. 19X 

LINES, 



MASONIC BRETHREN, IN CELEBRATION OF HIS 
MARRIAGE. 

Our worthy Senior Deacon, boys, lias had a fit come 

o'er him, — 
As many a worthy fellow has, who's gone this way 

before him : 
In short, he's joined another lodge, with obhgations 

new, 
Whose secrets can be given in the presence of but 

two. 

I know you'll think it mighty strange that such a 
tender passion 

Should overcome so stout a heart in such a won- 
drous fashion ; 

You'll think the deuce is in it, when you find that 
aught can weaken 

The stoical proclivities of this our Senior Deacon. 

Just lend your ears, then, for a "jiff," and listen 

while your " Master " 
Kelates the actual history of this singular disaster : 



192 POEMS. 

How Parley came to parley with the lass that's now 
his bride : 

How Molly plied her arts until the youth was molli- 
fied. 

'Twas on a pleasant Sabbath eve — it seems to linger 

yet, 

With balmy odors, soft as when that lo\dDg couple 

met ; — 
The world was mostly gone to rest ; the " witching 

hour " drew nigh ; 
And still this pair were strolling forth beneath the 

starry sky. 

Our brother, for a deacon, seemed in quite hilarious 

mood. 
No doubt the learned discourse that day had done 

him "heaps " of good. 
"Love one another," was the text the parson had 

selected ; 
Its queer effects the reverend man could hardly have 

expected ! 

" You are a Mason, I presume ? " — began the curious 

Molly ;— 
" I hardly thought you'd ever stoop to such a piece 

of folly ; 



LINES. 193 

But, since you've gone and done this thing, I'll tell 

you what I'll do : 
I'll e'en propose to have you make of me a Mason 

too!" 

" Well, really !" said our startled friend ; " if now, 
upon your word, 

You make this proposition of your fi-ee will and ac- 
cord ; 

And if you'll keep the secret from the ears of all cre- 
ation, 

I'll e'en proceed this very hour to your initiation." 

He clasped her hand within his own ; he drew her 

fondly to him ; 
His heart began to palpitate ; a rapturous thrill went 

tlirough him ; 
And from their Hps, as stood the pair upon the 

grassy lawn, 
There came a sound — as if a cork were being slowly 

drawn. 

This most delightful ceremony thrice repeated 

there, 
Gave out its tell-tale whisper on the circumambient 

air; 



194 POEMS. 

Then spake the Senior Deaconj beneath the trysting 

tree, 
In accents low and tender : " Molly, that's the first 



I rather think she liked it ; at any rate she said 
She didn't see so very much in Masonry to dread ; 
And if he'd only promise her to be a faithful brother. 
She'd pass on from the first degree, and imdertake 
another. 

I saw it not, but I suspect that if the truth were 

known, 
'Twas on the second step that most the fellow's craft 

was shown ; 
'Tis said he gave her lectures on the Hberal arts and 

sciences, 
Beheving the monotony by Cupid's soft apphances. 

And, finally, it came to pass, in proper course of 
time. 

That he conferred, and she received, the third de- 
gree sublime. 

It was a famous wedding, and we all beheld with 
pride. 

How Molly was transfigured from a maiden to a 
bride. 



LINES. 195 

There, brothers, that's the story ; the Deacon's still 
our own; 

Still stands within our circle, but no longer stands 
alone ; 

For the pledge that we have taken, and shaU cher- 
ish during life. 

Now protects beneath its aegis yet another Mason's 
wife. 

Then here's a cordial health we drink to Parley and 

to Molly : 
May all their days be free from grief and sombre 

melancholy ; 
TiU that Celestial Lodge above shaU ope its golden 

portals. 
To welcome them, both bride and groom, among the 

blest immortals. 

S. B. S. 



196 POEMS. 

LINES, 

READ AT A DINNER GIYEN BY DR. C. T. COLLINS TO THE 

BERKSHIRE MEDICAL SOCIETY, AT INDIOLA PLACE, 

GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS., JULY 30, 1862. 

That Collins is the nurse for me ; he gets one's diag- 
nosis. 

And then prescribes his medicines in allopathic 
doses. 

In fact, so great his faculty for treating lung and 
limb. 

The very Faculty itself is " treated " now by him. 

I met the Doctor on the street ; he grasped me by 
the hand ; 

He looked me over, felt my pulse, then spoke in ac- 
cents bland : — 

" How are you, friend ?" but, strange to tell, he ab- 
solutely laughed 

To learn that I'd been ailing since — they talked 
about a draft ! 

" Well," said the Doctor, " your complaint is dread- 
fully contagious : 

I find the neighborhood is full of men who talk 
courageous ; 



LINES. 197 

Their tongues are loud enough to make you prick 

your ears in wonder, 
But there's some kink about their legs to make them 

run like thunder ! 

But this is neither here nor there ; the war is quite 
exciting ; 

But my affair, as you shall see, is vastly more invit- 
ing. 

The Berkshire Doctors, one and all, from valley, hill 
and heather — 

I'm going io have them, Wednesday week, around 
my board together. 

Of flesh and fowl I mean to have a bountiful selec- 
tion. 

And let these chaps just try their hands at post mor- 
tem dissection. 

I'll show our folks a clever trick, and let the people 
see 

How, under certain circumstances, doctors can 
agree. 

And then, to give the dinner some celebrity, you 

know, 
I want the village parsons, and the lawyers, in a 

row. 



198 POEMS. 

The three professions all combined afford a thorough 

teaching — 
You see, ours do the practicing ; the clergy do the 

preaching. 

Our neighboring men of letters, and a few " F. F. 
G. B's "— 

I shall surely lay some covers, and reserve some 
seats for these ; 

And chaps whose wives, like yours and mine, have 
rather wholesome faces, 

Must give their spouses, as of right, the most con- 
spicuous places. 

I shall prescribe a dose all round, adapted to re- 
vealing 

* The warm, champagny, old-particular, brandy-pun- 
chy feeling ;' 

And when the heavy masticating processes are done, 

We'll have a little flow of soul, and sentiment, and 
fun. 

There's Duncan, way from Williamstown — ^you knew 

him when in college, — 
His head's a perfect reservoir of sparkling wit and 

knowledge ; 



LINES. 199 

And there's the veteran Doctor Childs — God bless 
him ! he enjoys, 

At four-score years, to hold his youth, and be one 
of the boys ! 
^ -x- * * * * 

I'll have these fellows trotted out, and make them 
show their paces, 

And put them through an exercise of intellectual 
races ; 

And those who hold allegiance to some other learn- 
ed vocation, 

May add their tribute to the flow of mutual admira- 
tion. 

And as for you, pray bring along your little play- 
ful muse. 

And let her dance a lively jig in lightly-stepping 
shoes. 

Don't let her fear the wise old heads with whom she 
comes to mingle ; — 

I'll warrant she can fool them all with her delusive 
jmgle." 

I tried to have myseK excused, and all that sort of 

thing — 
The same as nice young ladies do when importuned 

to sing ; — 



200 POEMS. 

But " No, you simply must," was all the Doctor had 
to say ; 

Then left me in a mute surprise, and went his home- 
ward way. 

And so I come ; and just to take some vengeance on 

my friend, 
I tell you the whole story, from beginning unto 

end. 
You now perceive precisely, what the Doctor was 

about — 
His notion was — to call us in, and then, to call us 

out. 

But, notwithstanding, since we're here, and feeling 

somewhat mellow, 
"We may as well own up at once that he's a first rate 

fellow. 
He plies his arduous calling with a wondrous skill 

and vigor. 
And keeps a big estabhshment, but keeps a heart 

that's bigger. 

And once or twice in every year, as sure as the re- 
turning 

Of planets through their giddy paths, the festal 
lamps are burning 



LIKES, 201 

Around the Doctor's board ; and not to be of those 

who go there, 
To use a vulgar idiom, is simply " to be nowhere." 

A health, then, to the Doctor ! may genial skies be 

o'er him, 
And troops of friends around him, and pleasing hopes 

before him ; 
" May his heart preserve its freshness, and the light 

of life's young day, 
With softened, radiant glory shine upon his evening 

way." 

In freedom, peace and plenty, may it be his to dwell j 
May he have hosts of patients, and may they all get 

well ; 
And of that favor'd number, may all here present 

be ; 
And when he does this thing again, may we be here 

to see. 

S. B. S. 



202 POEMS. 



WOEDS. 

LINES READ BEFORE THE SACRAMENTO LIBRARY ASSO- 
CIATION, FEBRUARY 3, 1860. 

Necessity, that stems all law 

And brooks of no delay, 
Engulphed the gentle friend I saw 

One week ago to-day. 

His modest way, his honest smile, 

His 'customed accents bland. 
Had given place to stoutest style 

Of summons and command. 

It was the old, old tale of woe. 

Since Lyceum Leagues began ; 
That will not tolerate a " No ", 

'Gainst that committee-man. 

"When bureau stars beguile, betray. 

And leave in wretched plight. 
Who else must save from blank dismay 

But some domestic wight ? 

His prose may lack Athenian grace ; 
His rhymes may be " the worst ;" 



WORDS. 203 

Nor mother wit nor wisdom's trace, 
In either product nursed ; 

A youth, perchance, who early met 

His all-sufficient test ; 
And only asks they may forget 

Who heard him at his best ! 

Well known for all he is and ain't, — 

For all he can't and can ; 
He is a lecturer, poet, saint, 

To that committee-man. 

Such was the basis of salute 

And orders to attend. 
Which brought me here without dispute, — 

Obedient to my friend. 



In choosing a topic, why need I be driven ? 
The goddess of rhyming was specially shriven. 
First principles always supply the best plan, — 
My groundwork, all-spanning, is primitive man. 

So, out from your Eden, old Adam of kin ! 
Before you e'er fell in the pitfalls of sin ; 



204: POEMS. 

While faith in your heart — then the fountain of 

truth, 
Endowed thee unselfish, immortal in youth. 
Before having learned o'er foul flesh-pots to gloat. 
The core of your system was fixed in your throat. 
Tour palate delighting in nuts and herbs raw. 
And your bones benedictive of pallets of straw. 
Thy paradise dwelling and service should teach 
Begianing, and object, and evils of speech. 



For every living animal was set a certain voice, 

In different tones and emphasis of which they could 

rejoice. 
Distinctive as their outward forms was each one's 

range of sound ; 
The treble and the screech on wings, the roar upon 

the ground. 
And these beyond the mere physique declared the 

race and kind ; 
Fixed key-notes for each temper, from the panther 

to the hind ; — 
For each, by laws of harmony phrenology em- 
ploys. 
Expressed in fullest narrative their natures in their 

noise. 



WORDS. 205 

But wliat was his peculiar voice who ruled above tho 

beast; 
Who walked amid perennial fruits, sole monarch of 

the feast ? 
What single tone could indicate his majesty and 

might ; 
Assert at once his scope of will, his purpose for the 

right ? 
Not all the various instinct sounds which from the 

herd ascend, 
Not all the sweetest songsters' notes that did en- 
chanting blend. 
Could form a language for the man : — a mirror to 

disclose 
A record for the earnest thoughts that in his roam- 

ings rose. 

The first commission given to man, in which his 
speech was made, — 

The last self -gift of Him who spake, and all things 
else obeyed. 

Was when the creeping things of earth in trains be- 
fore him came. 

And what man chose to check them off, to each one 
was the name ; 

Which natural history catalogue proved Adam not 
a mute : 



206 POEMS, 

As tickled to articulate, his voice iDvoiced the 
brute. 

But tho' the earth bore fruits and flowers, regardless 
of expense, 

Yet was no help-meet found for man within the 
garden fence. 

One night he slept a deeper sleep than he had ever 
known, 

And when he woke, and conscious breathed, he miss- 
ed a bosom bone. 

While pondering on this sudden loss, resolved a 
cause to draw 

For this exsection of a rib, his Arab wife he 
saw! 

Then as man slept and woke betimes, we must, per- 
force, believe, 

'Twas early on a cloudless morn when Adam first 
knew Eve ! 

Speechless he stood ! and when for words, new-syl- 
labled, he strove, 

He learned himself spell-bound, enrapt, o'erwhelmed 
in mastering love ! 

Through his suspense at last he broke, — exclaimed 
in lordly tone : — 

" O, woman ! we are flesh of flesh and bone of very 
bone ! " 



WORDS, 207 

Thus did the man the woman call ; their union thus 

decide ; 
And with these words unbridled he the sweet tongue 

of his bride ! 

Which, from the day it was unloosed, has never 

ceased to go — 
With words of kindness and content ; but very rarely 

slow. 
Indeed, it seems as tho' it was implanted in her 

heart. 
Not to forget — if e'er forgive — that Adam had the 

start ! 

Such was Eve's fancy to converse for conversation's 
sake, 

That when her spouse was tired of talk she gossiped 
with a snake ; — 

Whose sinuous counsel caused her fall, and brought 
a common woe 

On all her offspring, who persist in sianuig here be- 
low. 

* * * * 6* * 

It came to pass the sons of Noah were traveling to 

the west ;— 
They cried : " Go to ! come let us build a tower and 

city, lest 



208 POEMS. 

We should be scattered all abroad, upon the plan- 
et's face, . 

Instead of bound in unity of residence and race ; 

And let the tower's top ascend, a monument of fame, 

Which, to all coming sons of men, our craft'ness 
shall proclaim. 

Aye, let the apex of the tower to Heaven in glory 
reach : 

For can we not make well-burnt brick, and have we 
not one speech?" 

But lo ! go to ! the sons of men are suddenly dis- 
persed ; 

For their rash plan, with languages a thousand times 
accurst. 

What awful force was manifest in words of close intent. 

When persons parted as they called adobe for cement ! 

Amazed, confused, enraged, they sloped, — each fam- 
ily alone ; 

And on their toil in Sliinar's land the sun no longer 
shone. 
****** 

Now, with a leap across the years — with your kind 
approbation — 

We leave the scattered ancient tribes for our folks' 
Yankee nation. 



W0BD8, 209 

No matter what has passed between, we have this 

sure conclusion : — 
And those who litigate the point remain in weak 

delusion : — 
Words are our staple, and produced in wonderful 

profusion. 

In pulpit and upon the stump, in market and in fo- 
rum, — 

Wherever two or three may chance to make a busi- 
ness quorum, — 

There you will find some smart pretense, for wealth 
or honor seeking ; 

And, nine in ten, his capital exhausts itself in speaking. 

The wordy man ! I know him well, and I have known 
him long — 

Proportioned to his lack of brain, his lungs are large 
and strong. 

The wordy man ! I know him well ; his temper and 
his fashion ; 

His drawling trick for wisdom's calm, his simulated 
passion. 

For, shine or storm, 'tis all the same ; his plethoric 
condition 

Eesponds with hopper evenness to every feed peti- 
tion. 



210 POEMS. 

His logic rests on simple stress of cop'lative con- \ 

junction ; 

O'er sense of tense lie rides rough-sliod, with rhap- j 

sodizing miction. ! 

Some simple man, reputed well about his native vil- i 

lage, \ 
"Where he has gained a competence in store-trade or 

in tillage, . 

Has nursed the thought for many a year, in honest \ 

meditation, 

That he was born for eminence in councils of the | 

nation. 

In farmers' clubs and miners' leagues he leaks his \ 

" proud ambition ;" j 

Suggests what Congressmen should do, on such and \ 

such condition. — \ 

Premises or concludes with hints about a vain ob- I 

lation \ 
Of sohd truth, when feeble minds control our dele- 
gation ! 

His hour at last ! The neighbors say : " John Smith's | 

an honest nature — i 

Let's send him down to 'represent ' in this year's ! 

legislature." 



WORDS, 211 

"Agreed," say all; agreement is in caucus forms 
perfected ; 

And in due course John Smith is hailed " Assem- 
blyman elected." 

Now squarely on the road to fame, he must assume 
a standing, 

In manners and in dress, ahke respectful and com- 
manding. 

For weeks before the session time, that nothing may 
be lacking. 

His new boiled shirts and broadcloth coat are placed 
in careful packing. 

Once at the capital, he feels his genius hugely swell- 

And what may be his final post there's no prophetic 

telling ! 
Now, all his energies are taxed, his brain is overladen 
With matter from the choice of which to pick phil- 

lipics, maiden. 
Lo ! now this legislator shouts, 'mid wild expectoration ; 
His eye dilates, his breast upheaves with dreadful 

respiration. 
The hall is close with crowding sounds, with words 

is atmospheric ; — 
He gains his climax with a shriek that borders on 

hysteric. 



212 POEMS. 

He ends ! and ends his public life — for, with the 

term expiring, 
He finds his " painful duty " is to beat a sad retiring. 
His age consoles : his efforts were abortive from their 

lateness ! 
And so he bids a "long farewell " to poHtics and 

greatness. 

The man of words ! I know him well ; his every form 
and feature 

Present to me, in simple guise, a most famihar crea- 
ture. 

While prominent upon th^ Hst — by general conces- 
sion — 

The actual act of public talk is not in his profession. 

In short — for short is his address — his business is 
the writing 

Of speeches in the proper shape from very poor in- 
diting. 

He takes a threadbare piece of cloth ; re- weaves it, 
clean and shining — 

Ah ! mysteries and miseries of his acute refining ! 

"Who knows of his alchemic toil ? who thanks him 
for his study 

O'er crucibles of ugly signs ; — expressions rank and 
muddy ? 



WORDS. 213 

Evolving from a jumbled mass some thoughts of 
useful meaning ; 

From loads of innutritions chafE^ some wheaten ker- 
nels gleaning. 

Is gratitude for such a work, from wordy men expected? 

Where toughest skill is exercised, least debt is recol- 
lected. 

I've seen unnumbered Solons gloat, in halls of legis- 
lation, 

Because the text constituents quote enhanced their 
reputation ; — 

Until theu' fame collapsed in shame, from one good, 
square translation ! 

Words for the million ! Who will get a patent right 
for pumping 

The greatest number in the space allowed for party 
stumping ? 

Where Korman French derivaties, promiscuous and 
excessive, 

Are used to stilt a tedious talk, and render it " im- 
pressive." 

Where truth is not so much ignored as set in cool 
defiance ; 

Where often on the naked howl is placed a cheered 
rehance. 



214 POEMS. 

Where men of cultiyated taste descend to black- 
guard diction ; 

Where convict scoundrels patronize their patriots' 
conviction ! 

Words for the thousands ! Simpering dames who 
resolutely tarried, 

Despite all calls, beyond the time in which they 
should have married ; 

And men and women out of sorts in marital condi- 
tion. 

Who think their private griefs confer a special for- 
eign mission. 

Pry out their neighbors' evil days, and picture trifles 
glaring ; 

Knock down the stool of penitence, and set reform 
despairing ; 

Destroy the hopes of some fond girl, whose keenest 
heart affection 

Was justly placed, — tho' not assumed to be on 
earth's perfection. 

And who shall now for cotton bales or gold the 

paeans sing ? 
We hail the royal council board : — The man of 

speech is king ! 



WOBDS. 215 

I speak not now of babbling fools, — of those who 

throw away 
Their own and other people's time in hngual display. 
I speak of such as Henry was, — of Webster and of 

Clay. 
I look to him, the eloquent, inspired New England 

son. 
Whose words have saved the home and tomb of 

Father Washington ! 

Words foi the hundreds ! Blessed few ; in Honor's 

house devoted : — 
Each one determining his choice, — admitted or pro- 
moted ! 
Words that the seeds of fire contain for nations now 

complaining ; 
Words that when victory is won, disclose the skill 

maintaining. 
Words breathing peace, and hope, and faith, through 

earthly time enduring, — 
For every hstening soul a hate of morbid thoughts 

procuring : 
Their speech we yearn to hear ; for truth gleams 

radiant in the hearing. 
And in the trance we grasp the love that casts out 

pride and fearing. 



216 POEMS. 

But here a thouglit compunctious stays ; and in its 
candid telling, 

I make avowal consonant with most congenial spell- 
ing. 

Should I permit my rhyming muse to longer test 
your favor, 

I might reduce a note of praise to feeble semi-qua- 
ver. 

So while there's merit in the act, I'll make a timely 
ending ; — 

That when 'tis said, " it was not much," the phrase 
may be commending. 

Declaring that a favor found in some such exclama- 
tion, 

Will more than double all the capes of her best ex- 
pectation. 

C.A.S. 



EXPERIENCES AFLOAT, 217 



EXPEKIENCES AFLOAT. 

^^RSES WRITTEN ON BOARD U. S. TRANSPORT, ILLINOIS, 
OFF FLORIDA COAST, JANUARY, 1863. 

O GENTLE Muse ! gracious Muse ! 

Bestow thy smile on me ; 
While I describe the wondrous sights 

I see upon the sea. 

Old Ocean is a heavy swell ; 

A deep old salt, for that ; 
You'll find your error, if at first 

You take him for a flat. 

No rower can withstand his roar ; 

For blows he's ever ready ; 
And whoso keeps his company. 

Is apt to get unsteady. 

He brags what flags wave o'er his waves ; 

He boasts his ships are whalers ; 
With gales regales us, just to show . 

How he assails the sailors. 

Ah me ! I'm six days out from shore ; 
A cleaned-out, luckless rover ; 



218 POEMS. 

Another six-days cruise ahead ; 
And so, I'm half-seas-over. 

I feel so " cabin'd, cribbed, confined," 
I scarce can draw my breath ; 

There's no more comfort in my berth, 
Than if it were my death. 

I go upon the upper deck 
They call " the hurricane ; " 

I spy a seat hard by, I strive 
With all my might to gain. 

The passage thither seems up hill ; 

I'm just a'going to soar ; 
When lo ! there comes a sudden lurch,- 

I'm sprawling on the floor ! 

With stem resolve I seek the stem, 
The ship's in mad carouse ; 

The masts as to their master nod. 
The bow is making bows. 

The smoke-stack is exceeding sick, 

It vomits forth a cloud ; 
A deathly pallor seems to sit 

On every sail and shroud. 



EXPERIENCES AFLOAT. 219 

I look down in the engine room ; \ 

The struggle there is fine ; : 

The old ship's stomach seems disturbed ! 

Almost as bad as mine. ^ 

An afterthought conducts me aft, j 

How very queer I feel ! '• 

The things go dancing round me so, I 

My brain begins to reel. ! 

Then comes the strange sensation on, j 

The like you never knew ; 
There's nothing for it, but to run, — 

Eugh! Eugh!! E-e-u-g-h!!! 

O grim old Neptune ! once release i 

Your precious hold on me ; ' 

And you may play your pranks at will, j 

I'll never go to see ! ■ 

S. B. S. 



220 I'OEMS, 



CHAKGE OF THE FOETY-NINTH. 

[The Forty-ninth Mass. Vols, participated in the attempt to 
carry by storm the rebel works at Port Hudson, La., May 27, 
1863, losing in killed and wounded more than one-third of the 
number who went into the action. ] 

" FoRWABD now the Foety-ninth ! " the General's 
mandate came ; 

" Attention, Third Battalion ! " was the Colonel's 
prompt exclaim : 

" Now, ye sons of Berkshire, your crowning horn- 
has come ; 

Prove your fond fidelity to ancestry and home ! " 

Straightway from the imdergrowth, our gallant boys 
upsprang ; 

Bapid and sonorous the familiar accents rang ; 

" Eight face ! Lively ! Forward march ! " mean- 
while, in each e>je 

Mark the firm resolve that dareth both to do, and 
die. 

Through the tangled bushes stealthily we tread. 
While the shells are shrieking madly overhead ; 
Now we reach the open ; and, across the plain, 
See the rebel cannon, spouting leaden rain. 



CHARGE OF THE FORTY-NINTH 221 

" On the right, by file in line ! " — ^rapidly we form : 
" Forward march ! Guide centre ! " — now the fiery 

storm 
With redoubled fury vexes earth and sky, 
As our glorious banner greets the foeman's eye. 

Gallantly before us, in the thrilling scene, 

March the storming party, with musket and fascine ; 

See ! their steps they hasten ! " Double quick ! " — 

now then 
Comes the tug of battle ; 'quit yourselves like men ! 

Ah, what rebel cunning had prepared the way ! 
Felled trees, logs and branches in our pathway lay ; 
Still our flag moves forward ; aye, — and not alone ; 
For our line of battle bravely holds its own ! 

God of mercy help us ! Twice the murderous balls 
Strike our hero Colonel ; ah, he reels ; he falls ! 
Our Lieutenant-Colonel, " Onward ! Onward ! " cry- 
ing, 
In an instant stricken, on the field is lying ! 

Yet our boys, undaunted, with their might and main 
Strive to gain the ramparts, but, alas ! in vain. 
From those fatal ramparts, looming still afar, 
How the foe, exultant, hurl the bolts of war ! 



222 POEMS. 

Through our ranks, where glittered bayonet and 

blade, 
See what deadly havoc shot and shell have made ! 
Of that proud battalion, — fresh-lipped men aiul 

brave — 
Scores now groan in anguish ; some have found a 

grave ! 

Strive no longer vainly, now that hope is past ; 
Let the logs and pit-falls be your shield at last : — 
Down, then ; down for safety ; ye who still sur- 
vive ; 
Thank the God of battles ye are yet alive ! 

Softly soon the Day-King sinks unto his rest, 

And the grateful twilight deepens in the west. 

Hushed the din of battle — now, with footsteps 
fleet, 

Weary, saddened soldiers make their swift re- 
treat. 

Lo ! what scenes confront them, as they rearward 

tread ; 
Her© a comrade wounded ; there a comrade dead ! 
Friends at home, and kindred ; ah ! what would ye 

say, 
Could you see your petted Forty-ninth to-day I 



CHARGE OF TEE FOBTT-NINTE. 223 

This, at least, in future, say with honest pride, — 
" Berkshire boys right nobly fought, and bled, and 

died." 
Ever let their actions be preserved in story, 
And their names encircled with a wreath of glory. 

S. B. S. 



224 POEMS, 



lilNES, 

WRITTEN FOR IMPROMPTU CELEBRATION, JULY 4, 1863, 

ON BOARD STEAMSHIP CAHAWBA, AT SEA, OFF COAST 

OF FLORIDA, EN ROUTE HOME FROM NEW ORLEANS. 

The glorious Fourth has come again ; 'tis ours to 
hail the day 

Afar at sea, as o'er the waves our good ship speeds 
its way ; 

And while our staunch " Cahawba " floats in majes- 
ty along, 

From grateful lips let us uphft our patriotic song. 

"Well cherished day ; how bright the fires on memo- 
ry's altar burn, 

As, each revolving year, we greet its annual re- 
turn ! 

Our country ! with what pride we trace her onward, 
upward way. 

Since first our grandsires hailed the dawn of Inde- 
pendence day 1 

In conflict born, in faith sustained, baptized in blood 

and fire, 
Exposed in tender infancy to Britain's haughty ire ; 



LINES. 225 

still our Columbia lived and thrived, and came at 

last to be 
An empire whose dominion stretched from sea across 

to sea. 

Beneath her banner, science, art, and each fair en- 
terprise 

Thrived, like exhuberant fruits, beneath the most 
auspicious skies ; 

Here Justice held her scales aloft, and with benig- 
nant mien, 

Kehgion, with her mitred front, o'erlooked the glad- 
some scene. 

Upon that banner, earth's oppressed from lands afar 
have gazed. 

As on some sign of healing by some modern Moses 
raised ; 

And unto it with joyful hope, and with a faith sub- 
lime. 

Have flocked a countless multitude, from every 
shore and clime. 

Blest, O, how blest ! beneath that flag, we lived, nor 

thought nor dreamed 
How much of discord lay concealed, where all so 

cheerful seemed ; 



226 POEMS. 

Dreamed not there breathed a soul so base, — to 
human sense so closed, 

As dare profane the citadel where all our hopes re- 
posed. 

But times have changed ; this very scene reminds 
us that the foe 

Hath risen in his might to deal the fratricidal blow. 

The uniforms we wear to-day, and many a well- 
earned scar. 

Tell that the nation writhes beneath the crimson 
foot of war ! 

But, God be praised, the hour hath shown, that when, 

in years gone by. 
Heaven oped its gates to greet our sires, true valor 

did not die. 
O, let our faith and hope grow strong, as in our ranks 

to-day. 
We recognize the sons of sires, as brave, as true, as 

they ! 

And now, as comes the season round, when every 

bosom glows 
Afresh with love of country, and with wrath against 

her foes ; 



LINES. 227 

O, let us at a common slirin© our sacred vows re- ! 

cord, I 
The contest never to give o'er, nor sheathe the right- 
eous sword, 

Till once again, from Kennebec to distant Rio i 

Grande, : 
Our Flag shall spread its ample folds, unchallenged, 

o'er the land ; i 

And everywhere, the wide world round, that glori- ] 

ous Flag shall be \ 

In very deed, and very truth, the Ensign of the j 

free ! j 

S. B. S. ] 



228 POEMS. 

TO JULIA, IN HEAVEN. 

Sister ! we mourn with ceaseless grief tliy going, 

Since thou hast left us ; 
With each recurring day our tears are flowing, 
More deep the yearnings in our hearts are growing. 
For that loved presence, whereof — God's bestow- 
ing— 

He hath bereft us. 

Thou wast, but art not here forever more ; — 

Such thy brief story ; — 
Thy life was bright and joyous, but 'tis o'er ; 
Thou hast gone seeking dear ones gone before, 
And from the slopes of that celestial shore, 

Hast risen to glory. 

Say, in those upper mansions, didst thou meet 

Sister and brothers ? 
And in the first bright thi-ong that came to greet, 
And brought thee glad embrace, — swift- winged and 

fleet, — 
Was there not that dear face, — serene and sweet — 

Our sainted mother's ? 

Oh I I do seem to see new joy in Heaven, 
As she who bore thee 



TO JULIA IN HEAVEN. 229 

Saw tliy pure soul from earth's frail vesture riven, 
Safe at the goal towards which it well had striven, 
And, joyous in this child-companion given. 
Bent smiling o'er thee ; 

And to the Father, on His white throne seated. 

And to the Son, 
And to the Spirit — God Triune — repeated 
Glad hymns of praises, nor in vain entreated 
Welcome to thee, O rapturously greeted, 

Thy Life-work done ! 

There, as eternal cycles roll away, 

Thou art at rest. 
Around, the everlasting sunbeams play ; 
Through golden streets, through sweet fields, thou 

shalt stray. 
And in yon Heaven shalt spend an endless day 

Among the blest. 

Yet e'en from Heaven's ecstatic joys, I know 

Thou wouldst look down. 
And gaze in fondness upon friends below, 
And fain wouldst woo them from this world of woe. 
And higher joys portray, and fain wouldst show 
The victor's crown. 



230 POEMS. 

But, oh, how swift the years will wing their flight 

In thy esteem ! 
Our life is but a day — soon past — then night 
Comes, whispering of the morn, or else with bhght ; 
And all — the old, the beautiful, the bright — 

Pass like a dream ! 

And, shortly, all the friends and kindred known 

On earth to thee. 
Must cross the stream which thou hast crossed, 

alone, 
Must stand in judgment at God's awful throne. 
And, in its bliss, or terrors, must be shown 
Eternity ! 

Spirit departed unto realms above, 

I pray, look hither ; 
Watch o'er and guard me with that sister's love, 
Which erst I know thy tender heart did move ; 
From God and Heaven permit me not to rove ; 

But lead me thither ! 

And, haply. He who lives to intercede 

At God's right hand. 
To my poor prayers may graciously give heed ; 
O'er sins like mine. His wounds afresh may bleed, 
And I may gain, obedient to His lead. 

The promised land. 



TO JULIA IN HEAVEN. 231 

Yet not to gain it, when I know what guest 

Inhabits there ; — 
What greater torment for the human breast, 
"What greater woe wherewith to be oppressed, 
What greater grief, or sorrow, or unrest, 

Than such despair ! 

Dear sister ! Earth is less since thou hast died, 

And Heaven is more. 
From Heaven look down and be my constant guide. 
So may I 'scape the snares of sin and pride, 
And reach at last, beyond Death's gloomy tide, 

The shining shore. 

There, as the tireless centuries come and go. 

No fate shall sever ; — 
Supernal joys shall have perpetual flow. 
Loved ones of old shall throng with hearts aglow. 
And bid us taste of pleasures, we shall know 

Are ours forever. 

S. B. S. 



232 POEMS. 

MUSINGS IN A CEMETEEY. 

I. 

I STOOD within the consecrated ground, 
Where hundreds sleep th' inevitable sleep ; 
In thoughtful mood I strolled at leisure, round 
The sacred place where mourners come to weep ; 
Where sculptured stones their constant vigils keep ; 
Where solemn trees their drooping branches wave 
O'er prostrate forms, consigned to slumber deep ; — 
The old, the young, the good, the base, the brave, 
All to one common level come at last — the grave ! 

II. 

How populous grown, thou city of the dead ! 
Within the period of a few brief years. 
How short the time since first a lifeless head 
Was here laid low with many sighs and tears ! 
Yet, day by day, upon our careless ears 
Fall sad the tones of the funereal bell. 
As, here and there, some fated mortal hears, 
Sounding for him, th' inexorable kneU — 
" Hence to the regions where departed spirits dweU I" 

m. 

So, one by one, the marble columns rise, 
And for its tenant yawns another tomb, 



Musixas ly a cemetery. 233 

And some new shaft points upward to tlie sides, 
And new- wreathed flowers exhale their sweet per- 
fume — 
As fain to rob some grave of half its gloom. 
Here speaks a stone of aged worth passed awaj ; 
There, of a youth cut do^vn in early bloom ; 
There, of a child called fi'om its infant play — 
Blest one ! so soon let in to realms of endless day ! 

IV. 

'Tis a fine impulse — worthy of a race, — 
The foremost, doubtless, of the sons of earth, — 
The habitations of the dead to grace 
With fitting tributes to departed worth. 
How meet that one w^ho had a common birth 
With me ; whose youth ran parallel Tvith mine — 
Who sat beside the same paternal hearth — 
When called at last his being to resign. 
Should find a grave o'er which these hands should 
place a shrine ! 

V. 

Yes, honored be the instinct which incites 
To decoration of the sacred spot 
Where the dead rest, with something which in- 
vites, — 



234 POEMS. 

"Which seems to say, " Thou art not clean forgot ; 
Though gone from earth, thy name hath perished 

not; 
But o'er thy ashes, the memorial stone 
Some place to thee in memory shall allot — 
Record a Hfe in which some virtues shone 
Too bright to pass away unchronicled — unknown." 

VI. 

It makes the living look with lessened dread 
On death, and scenes which its approach attend, 
To see attractions multiplied and spread 
Around each tomb by some surviving friend. 
'Tis sweet to feel that, when one's life shall end, 
He shall not sleep within a nameless grave, 
But o'er him some inscription shall defend 
Awhile his record 'gainst the Lethean wave, — 
Prolong his influence, and his good example save. 

vn. 

And there's incentive in the pleasing thought, 

That whatsoever hath been grandly done. 

In panegyric letters may be wrought 

Upon the shaft, or monumental stone, 

To tell the pensive passer-by of one 

Who, in some noble sphere, held high command ; 



MUSINGS m A CEMETERY. 235 

"WTio, in mankind's affection, held a throne ; — 
Endowed with gifts of head, and heart, and hand ; — 
Whose Hfe was one long benediction o'er the land. 

vm. 

But monuments are feeble bulwarks all 
Against the havoc and the waste of time ; 
They serve a purpose, but decay and fall. 
Ere they who built scarce reach th' eternal clime. 
Some living truth disclosed — some deed subHme — 
These be the monuments that shall endure. 
Great Caesar's valor, — greater Homer's rhyme 
Give each a place in history secure, — 
Beneath Fame's temple-dome, a habitation sure. 

• IX. 

The prophet, Moses, towards the mountain height, 
At God's commandment, lifted up his face ; 
So passed forever out from human sight. 
And no man knoweth of his burial-place. 
Yet not till men have lost the power to trace 
In holy writ, the record blazoned there. 
Shall he, — the leader of a chosen race, — 
The homage of the ages fail to share. 
Or crowns of everlasting splendor cease to wear. 



236 POEMS. 



Of good and bad taste, it may well be said, 
Our cemeteries make a vast display. 
Like living cities, cities of tlie dead 
Wliat sort of folk inhabit there, betray. 
The architecture of the present day, — 
The ancient models setting all at nought — 
In various style — grave, cumbrous, graceful, gay — 
Some fair, some execrable shapes hath wrought — 
The chance embodiment of each contriver's thought. 

XI. 

Yet 'twere a simple thing to keep within 
The bounds of proper taste and cultured sense ; 
Build some substantial structure o'er thy kin, — 
Against time's ravages, the best defence, — 
And shun, of all things, vulgar, base pretense. 
Did he die rich ? be modest, ne'ertheless. 
Nor strain to typify his opulence 
By something that shall only make men guess 
What share it cost of all that Dives did possess. 

XII. 

I can perceive a fitness when men build 
Theu' costly tributes to great Washington ; 
Or, lavish of expense, adorn and gild 



MUSINGS IN A CEMETERY. 237 

Their proud memorials to each gifted one, — 
Soldier or sage, or patriot, whose life done, 
Seems to become the property of all 
Within whose midst his grand career was nm ; 
Who, o'er his dust, or in the classic hall, 
Or in the market-place, his sculp tur'd form install. 

xni. 

But Avhen old Jones, whose riches were amassed 
In manufactui'es, or in merchandise ; 
In prosperous venture, or some signal cast 
Of fortune, pays stern Nature's debt, and dies. 
And wills that o'er his ashes there shall rise 
The most imposing of memorial stones, — 
His name, forsooth, to thus immortahze ; 
I really can but think that Mr. Jones 
Is paying overdue respect unto his bones. 

XIV. 

And mark the folly of the vast outlay ! 
This man would fain perpetuate his name ; 
But, ah ! how soon his fabric ^\all decay, 
And time will mock his weak, pretentious claim. 
Wealth can find better shifts to purchase fame. 
Jones spent a fortune ; he might have endowed 
A charity or college with the same, 



238 POEMS, 

And bought applause from no ignoble crowd, — 
Conceived a generous act, and won distinction proud. 

XV. 

Eicli Amos Lawrence ; — honored be his name ! — 
A poor boy once, — ^became a millionaire ; 
Then, thoughtful founder of a fragrant fame. 
On charities bestowed a zealous care. 
The tomb that shrines him is a plain affair. 
And yet his name on many a structure shines. 
Goes linked with benefactions here and there. 
And, until Time his sovereignty resigns, 
On Fame's bright scroll shall be inscribed in living 
lines. 

XVI. 

When I must answer to the final call, 

I'd have no costly pile above my head ; 

But I would be remembered, if at all. 

For something nobly done, or fitly said. 

But, should I join the multitudinous dead, 

Who leave no footprints on Time's treacherous 

sands. 
Enough for me, to have my children shed 
Sometimes a tear beside the spot where stands 
The simple stone placed o'er my dust by friendly 
hands. 



MUSINGS IN A CEMETERY. 239 

xvn. 

While thus I mused, lo ! the descending sun 
Began to cast his shadows, dark and long ; 
And so, with one accord, were quickly done 
The day, my stroll, my reverie, and my song. 
To the near city I made haste along, 
Through avenues proud, and bustling thorough- 
fares, 
And once more mingling with the busy throng, 
Ah, me ! how soon life's round of paltry cares, 
Re-ent'ring all my thoughts, possessed me una- 
wares. 

S. B. S. 



240 POEMS. 



POEM, 



DELIVERED AT GREAT BARRINGTON, JULY 4tH, 1865, 
AND ON SAME DAY IN PITTSFIELD. 

No MORE to chronicle fraternal wars ; 
No longer liand-maid of the furious Mars ; 
No more to beckon to a soldier's grave 
The youthful warrior, — the heroic brave ; 
No more with classic tread and useful mien. 
To lend thy presence to some battle scene ; — 
Goddess of song ! with gladder notes attend ; 
Here in our midst, with radiant brow descend ; 
On happier themes, O let thy zeal increase — 
The HOUR OF TRIUJUPH, and the dawn of peace ! 

Dark was the cloud, which, gathering thick and fast. 

For many years the Nation's sky o'ercast ; 

And fierce the storm, whose pent-up wrath broke 

forth 
O'er desperate South and o'er determined North, 
When the defiant flag was first unfurled. 
And civil war's hot thunderbolts were hurled, 
"Waking the echoes of the startled world. 

Sad was the day, and evil was the hour. 

When Keason left her throne and lost her power ; 



POEM, 241 

When first the impious madman dared begin 
The strife in which he could not hope to win ; 
To fire the nation's temple dared presume, — 
Whose flames, once Hghted, must himseK consume ; 
Too glad this common heritage to mar 
With all the havoc of tremendous war, 
And droA\Ti the sacred ties of brotherhood 
In swollen rivers of fraternal blood ! 

It was to be ; the God who mles above, — 
Alike the God of justice, as of love, — 
Doubt not, was witness with omniscient eye. 
Of all the scene ; and from His throne on high, 
Beheld what man saw not, nor yet foresees, — 
Results, far-reaching through the centuries ! 
Nay, e'en to us, of finite, feeble sense. 
Comes now and then a glimpse of recompense, 
And all the sacrifice of toil and blood 
Seems cheap in prospect of the coming good. 
Men die, but nations live, whose men are great, 
And fit to found and regulate a state ; 
And nations are the mighty instruments, 
Beneath the wondrous rule of Providence, 
Wherewith to hasten that consummate end. 
To which all time's events and changes tend ; 
And whoso with a pious trust essays 
To give his nation power and length of days ; 



242 POEMS. 

To make her nobler, and of higher worth, 
Among the thrones and kingdoms of the earth. 
Fulfills a mission ; and may lay him down 
Where death o'ertakes him ; he hath won a crown. 
And thou, whose eye to-day can only see 
That far-off grave 'neath the magnolia tree, — 
O cease thy grief ; for though no more the boy 
Comes back to mingle in these scenes of joy, 
Nor joins his comrades, — ^proudly welcomed now, 
The laural wreath encircling every brow, — 
Yet, one day, when God's Bugle in mid-air 
Shall sound " Attention ! " he too shall be there ; 
At that last roll-call, " Adsum ! " shall reply. 
And join the Grand Encampment in the sky ! 
His work was done ; he had not reached life's noon ; 
He died too soon, you think, yet not too soon. 
A hero, died, who might have Hved instead. 
To die, a riddance, in an old man's bed. 
Peace to your ashes, brave, departed ones ! 
Sleep well ; though now the sun may bleach your bones 
By Mississippi's stream, or down beside 
"Where the James rolls his deep, historic tide. 
Our hearts go out and up to you to-day, 
And bid you God-speed on your heavenward way ; 
And fresh and green your memories we shall keep. 
Till ours to sleep the same mysterious sleep ! 



POEM, 243 

Thank God for our glorious, gallant dead ! 

On history's page we have often read 

Of the wondrous deeds of those, 

"Who at famed Thermopylte fought and fell. 

And at Marathon struggled long and well, — 

Whose story the grand old writers tell, 

In immortal verse and prose. 

And we thought that the age was forever past, 
"When spirits so noble could still be cast 

In a like heroic mould ; 
And we did not dream that here and there, 
Each in his little round of care, 
Breathing with us the common air, 
Were youths, whose courage to do and dare, 

Occasion might unfold. 

We have read in old books, of classic ground, 
And have longed to visit and linger round — 

As pilgrims round a shrine — 
Each famous spot, where, in days gone by. 
Proud Greek met Greek with a dauntless eye, 
In haughty contempt of death, to die, 

With an impulse that seemed divine. 

But no longer we need to gaze afar. 
To where the grim-visaged god of war 

Hath stalked with ponderous tread. 



244 POEMS. 

On the hither side of the ocean foam, 
"Where the young Columbia hath her home, 
Sacred indeed hath the soil become. 

With the graves of the deathless dead S 

Let the Old World now be the New World's guest, 
As the long Hue moves from East to West, 

In procession vast and grand 
Of pilgrims from far beyond the sea, 
In this favored home of the brave and free, 
By the graves of martyrs for Liberty, 

In reverent awe to stand ! 

Inscribed on a new-built Arch of Fame, 
Shall stand forever each honored name 

Of that unselfish throng ; 
And the unborn millions shall be taught, 
What deeds subhme these heroes wrought. 
And how with patriot zeal they fought. 

And conquered a giant wrong. 

And of that proud Arch, the white keystone 
Shall bear the shining name of one, 

"Whose death was the august crown 
Of the sacrifices a nation gave. 
In a perilous hour, its life to save ; — 
Sleej) well, great Chief, in thy hallowed grave. 

On the heights of the world's renown ! 



POEM. 245 

Sleep well, O, martyred President ! 

The dastard blow that struck thee dead, 

New lustre on thy record shed, 
And Avrought thee good, where ill was meant. 

Thou hadst the plenitude of fame. 

And heart of friend and whilom foe ; 
There seemed no higher boon below, 

Or short of Heaven, for thee to claim. 

So aU-symmetric thy career, 

To live, was but to jeopardize ; 

For oft would busy envy rise, 
And seek excuse to carp and sneer. 

So, like a fully ripened sheaf, 

The reaper, Death, at God's command. 
Did cut thee down with furtive hand, 

And all the world was plunged in grief. 

O, how the nation wept for thee ! 
While fast in sympathetic flow 
Fell stranger tears, and tones of woe 

Came wafted o'er the sobbing sea. 

With calmer eyes we now discern. 

In this event, the hand of God. 

We place thy ashes 'neath the sod, 
And shrine thy deeds in history's urn* 



246 POEMS. 

Full at tlie zenith stood tliy sun, 
Betokening grateful afternoon ; 
Yet none shall deem inopportune 

That swift eclipse ; thy work was done ! 



Now let us turn the picture round, and view the 
brighter side. 

And gather as we gaze, some food for patriotic pride. 

The crisis o'er, our country lives ; — in vigor yet sur- 
vives, 

A thousand-fold more dear for all those consecrated 
lives. 

Four years — four pregnant years have passed, since 

war was first begun ; — 
The mightiest war that ever yet was waged beneath 

the sun ; — 
And every Independence Day, as j^ear succeeded 

year. 
Still found within our anxious hearts alternate hope 

and fear. 

But, God be praised, the scene is changed ; the 

clouds have rolled away ; 
'Tis ours to hail the dawning of a more auspicious 

day; 



POEM. 247 

The atmosphere is purer far, — the nation smiles 

again, 
And Peace o'er all the fair expanse resumes her glad 

domain. 

Our " erring sisters " have come back, — at least 

they say they're coming ; 
The busy wheels of enterprise on every side are 

humming ; 
The boys come home to breathe the northern air so 

fresh and balm}- , 
And each one struts, and brags about — " When I 

was in the army ! " 

The contrabands are freemen all ; it seems so strange 

and new, 

The situation puzzles them ; they don't know what 

to do : 
But let them all lay down to-day the shovel and the 

hoe, 

And shout and sing, " De kingdom's come, an' de 

year ob Jubilo ! " 

The rebel States come back so fast, for re-admission 
asking, 

The powers of the President they're greatly over- 
tasking ; 



248 POEMS. 

But let each wandering star once more upon our 

banner shine : 
To err is human, it is said ; — ^but to forgive, divine. 

But as for "Jeff," the head and front of all the 

wicked plan, 
I'll e'en express my sentiments as mildly as T can. 
I know you'll think me too severe ; I know I shall 

be blamed ; 
And yet I vow and do declare — She ought to he 

ashamed ! 

And there's our old friend, Johnny Bull ; my recol- 
lection's dim. 

Or else the Yankee nation owes a trifling debt to him. 

The poor old fellow has the blues, and bitterly des- 
ponds. 

And gets no interest, now-a-days, on those Confed- 
erate bonds 1 

And there's the Third Napoleon, and the Sovereign 

Castilian ; 
And there's the new-fledged Emperor, the Archduke 

Maximilian ; 
Some doctrine we'll expound to them — they call it 

" the Monroe,"— 
Unless they very shortly take French leave of Mexico! 



POEM. 249 

We have some little tubs afloat, and now and then 

a gun, 
And boys enough, both north and south, who'd Hke 

to see the fun ; 
And Montezuma's halls, methinks, will witness quite 

a scare. 
When cook-stoves from Connecticut come hissing 

through the air ! 

I tell you what : I do believe this mighty Yankee 
nation. 

When once it gets its " dander " up, can whip the 
whole creation; 

And since our family quarrel's done, and things are 
quiet now, 

If people don't behave themselves, there'll be a pre- 
cious row ! 

But I must stop my Pegasus, before he does his 

worst ; — 
He gets so full of patriotism, I fear the nag will 

burst ; — 
He wants to give a toast or two, and then his story's 

told: 
It's time to close ; for I suspect the dinner's getting 

cold. 



250 POEMS. 

Then here's to Grant, and Sheridan, and Farragut, 
and Sherman ; 

The Yankee boys, the Irish boys, the steady, fear- 
less German ; 

And all the gallant officers, and all the noble men. 

Who fought the fight ; what land shall look upon 
their like again ! 

Long life, and health, and every good, be theirs in 

bounteous store. 
Till they shall join their comrades upon Jordan's 

farther shore ; 
And when the soil of centuries upon their graves is 

pressed. 
Still may the grateful generations rise to call them 

blest ! 

And now, to glorious Uncle Sam, let's give a rous- 
ing cheer ! 

The dear old Patriarch has reached almost his nine- 
tieth year. 

Let every heart and tongue unite to give the toast 
eclat, 

And join each voice with mine : Hip ! hip ! Hurra ! 

Hurra ! ! Hurra ! ! 1 

S. B. S. 



LINES. 251 

LINES, 

READ ON THE OCCASION OF HON. AND MRS. WM. D. BISHOP's 
CRYSTAL WEDDING, BRIDGEPORT, CT., OCT. 20, 1865. 

["Our tokens of compliment and love are for the most part 
barbarous. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must 
bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem ; the shep- 
herd, his lamb ; the miner, a gem ; the sailor, coral and pearls ; 
the painter, his picture ; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sew- 
ing." — Pialph Waldo Emerson.'] 

O GENTLE muse ! who deignest oft thy presence to 
bestow, 

Where Hymen celebrates his rites, and Cupid bends 
his bow ; 

Descend and hnger here awhile, thy grateful in- 
fluence shedding, 

To give this glad occasion voice, and grace our Crys- 
tal Wedding. 

No crystal offering I might bring, could hold the 
least compare 

With those we witness here displayed, so tasteful 
and so rare ; 

Be mine, instead, to shape the thought which ani- 
mates the throng, 

And bring it hither, wrought in verse, and crystaHzed 
in song. 



252 POEMS. 

The Crystal Wedding ! fitting theme for poet's glad- 
some rhyme ; 

Bright spot upon the borders of the rapid stream of 
time. 

What memories and what hopes surround this point 
upon life's way, 

Betwixt the veiled To-morrow, and the beauteous 
Yesterday ! 

'Twas Hope that crowned the nuptial hour, when 

first the wedded pair 
Set forth together, hand in hand, the vast Untried 

to share ; 
Now Memory too attends the feast, with gladness in 

her mien, 
And lends new interest to the time, new beauty to 

the scene. 

'Twas fifteen years ago to-night, the mystic knot 

was tied, 
Which bound in holy wedlock, the bridegroom and 

his bride ; 
And some were there, who now are here, and some 

in death lie low, 
Who bade the happy pair Godspeed, but fifteen 

years ago ! 



LINES. 253 

And some are here who were not there, — for so the 

world wags on ; 
New friendships, and new ties are forming ever and 

anon ; 
And some new comers I perceive, of tender ages 

rather, — 
The eldest is'nt yet fifteen ; — they all look like their 

father ! 

The bride and groom betray no serious ravages of 

time ; 
Of manhood, and of womanhood, they scarcely reach 

the prime ; 
And yet for them so prosperously hfe's fickle stream 

hath run, 
The prizes most can never win, already they have won. 

For he, in legislative halls, hath mingled with the 

great, 
And aided to administer the grand affairs of State, 
And much goods hath laid up in store since wedded 

life began, 
And is a Eailroad President, and was — an Alderman ! 

And she hath lent the magic charm of beauty and of 

grace 
To many a proud assemblage, and many an honored 

place. 



254 P0E3IS. 

And been a ready helpmeet unto liim in life's en- 
deavor, 

And greets us now, a courtly dame, and handsomer 
than ever I 

Fifteen years wedded ; no divorce ; no " spats ; " no 

shattered nerves ; 
No jars — except that harmless kind, for pickles and 

preserves ; — 
Bright children ; very pleasant home, and well-to-do 

in Hf e ; — 
'Tis well ; I yield assent, and do pronounce them 

man and wife. 

(I tell you in parenthesis, this ceremony's bind- 
ing. 

I know full well that latterly, there has been much 
fault-finding. 

Because ambitious laymen played the deuce in one 
or two setts. 

But I was made a Justice, when I lived in Massa- 
chusetts.) 

Now here's a health, twice-wedded pair, to you and 

yours we proffer ; 
Life's bounties may you richly share, in basket, 

store and coffer ; 



LINES, 255 

No crystal gift that sparkles here, but silently re- 
hearses 
The hearty benediction I would fain repeat in 

verses. 

And when the years — a decade more — have swiftly 

passed away, 
And time perchance hath silvered o'er your brows 

with lines of gray ; 
Though weeping friends o'er many a tomb, tears 

meantime shall be shedding, 
May it be yours, as bride and groom, to keep your 

silver wedding ! 

Nay — rarer chance to mortal lot — still let the msh 

be spoken. 
May the silver cord be loosed not, nor the golden 

bowl be broken. 
Ere at life's even you shall stand, inspired by 

memories olden. 
To join each faithful hand with hand, in nuptials 

that are golden ! 

And finally, we wish you all the joys vouchsafed to 

mortals ; 
May the shades of life unfrequent fall on these 

domestic portals ; 



256 POEMS. 

May every tongue your deeds extol ; may friends 

prove true and stable, 
And Heaven grant you numerous olive-branches 

round your table ! 

And when the promised Bridegroom comes, O may 

we all behold 
The crystal stream, the silver thrones, the city of 

pure gold ; 
And join that august, shining throng, before the 

Great I AM, 
To celebrate eternally the Marriage of the Lamb ! 

S. B. S. 



POEM, 257 



POEM, 

DELIVERED AT THE RE-UNION OF THE FORTY-NINTH 
REGIMENT, MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS, AT PITTS- 
FIELD, MASS., MAY 21, 1867. 

How strange a thing is memory : as I gaze 
This night on comrades of those fruitful days, 
When armed cohorts thronged on every hand, 
And war's alarms and thunders shook the land ; 
I am not here, — ^but backward, far away. 
My inmost thoughts and recollections stray. 
And bygone scenes are passing in review. 
Which, haply, I may reproduce to you. 

And first. Camp Briggs^' attracts my gaze ; the spot 

whereto we rallied, 
When forth from peaceful hearths and homes, as raw 

recruits we sallied ; 
When, having stumped the county o'er, for men to 

aid the nation, 
We undertook the rudiments of martial education. 



* Camp Briggs, Pittsfield, so named in honor of Brigadier- 
General H. S. Briggs. 



258 POEMS. 

And first, there came the " Allen Guard,"* with Cap- 
tain Israel Weller, — 

A whilom three-months sergeant, and a funny, whole- 
souled/e?fer / 

With Clark and Francis for his aids, he fired the 
opening gun, 

And straightway boldly issued " General Order 
Number One ! " 

Then Garhck, Plunkett, Sumner, Train and Morey 

followed fast ; 
Then Parker, Shannon, Eennie ; and then Weston 

came the last ; 
And so, ten goodly companies encamped upon the 

green, 
While tents and shanties multiphed, enhvening all 

the scene. 

O then 'twas drum-beat, morn and night, and tramp 

tramp, all the day. 
And not a little arduous toil, and very little play ; 



* The "Allen Guard," a militia company in Pittsfield, named 
after Hon. Thomas Allen, who had contributed largely to its 
organization and support, was the first company of the Forty- 
ninth to go into camp. It established itself at Camp Briggs on 
Sunday, September 7, 1862, which was the day when the Thirty- 
seventh Eegiment left it for the seat of war. 



POEM. 259 

The boys complained of homesickness ; — the disci- 
pline seemed hard ; 

And eyer and anon, at night, the rascals ran the 
guard. 

"What stunning dress-parades we had, at every close 

of day, 
When all the Pittsfield gentry came to witness the 

display ; 
When Captain Weller put us through the exercises fine. 
And " R. E. Noble, Adjutant," went strutting down 

the line ! 

And then, what everlasting drills, and marches up 

and down, 
Eliciting the compHments of all the belles in town ; 
And as we marched in column on, about a score 

abreast. 
Good Lord ! how Plunkett's towering form loomed 

up above the rest ! * 

Pete Springsteent served the rations round, accord- 
ing to our means. 

* The Forty-nintli was known wherever it went as " the regi- 
ment with the tall major." Major Plunkett was six feet six in 
his uniform. 

t Peter Springsteen, whilom landlord of the United States 
Hotel, Pittsfield, furnished rations for officers and men, when the 
camp was first established, and accompanied the regiment South 
as its sutler 



260 POEMS. 

The beefsteak was exceeding good, and eke the pork 

and beans. 
Our appetites were glorious, and we minded not the 

odds. 
And quaffed our coffee piping hot ; 'twould kill at 

forty rods ! 

Of Pittsfield hospitality, I hardly need remind ; — 

This grand old town, whose people were so generous 
and kind ; 

Where many a mansion, with the warmth of wel- 
come, was aglow, 

As, through the " witching hours," we tripped " the 
light fantastic toe." 

And here, the pensive muse would pause, in sadness 

to deplore 
The death of Sarah Morewood, who shall greet us 

here no more. 
Deep on the white entablature of memory, we record 
Her yirtues, yielding now, we trust, exceeding rich 

reward.^ 



* Mrs. Sarali A. Morewood, late of Pittsfield, now deceased, 
was a lady of ample means, and proportionate generosity. The 
Thirty-first and Thirty-seventh Begiments while encamped at 
Pittsfield had received many favors at her hands, but the Forty- 
ninth were especially indebted to her for many acts of kindness 



POEM. 261 

At first, the clear October days were mild and warm 
enougli ; 

But, bj-and-bye, the nights grew cold, and winds 
blew chill and rough ; 

The guard-house was a populous and thriving insti- 
tution, 

And all the while our rank and file betrayed a dimi- 
nution. 

We shall not soon forget the day, when orders came 

to leave, — 
To pack all up for Worcester, and go that very 

eve. 
Our tents were struck, our knapsacks slung, — and 

then, — lo, and behold, — 
Our train came not, and there we stood, a' shivering 

in the cold ! 

On th' horrors of that dreadful night, I need not here 

to dwell, — 

The men were all disgusted, and the officers as 
well ; 



and attention. Before l(!aving Pittsfield every officer was pre- 
sented by her with a portfolio with writing materials, in con- 
venient form for camp use, and also a copy of the Scriptures, and 
a number of miscellaneous books. The whole regiment was the 
recipient of her hospitality on many occasions, at Pittsfield, and 
while in barracks in New lork, and in camp on Long Island. 



262 POEMS, 

But, wliat with show of coffee and refreshments, 

brought from town, 
And sharing witli the men the "gloom," we kept 

their temper down. 

The welcome morning dawned at last; the tardy 

train arrived ; 
"We gave Camp Briggs a parting cheer ; our spirits 

quite revived ; 
With many a benediction from many an anxious 

friend, 
Away we sped : — and so I bring this chapter to an 

end. 



And now, at Camp Wool, Worcester, we tarried for 
awhile. 

We came at night, and travel-worn for many a wea- 
ry mile. 

That snow-storm you'll remember, and the wintry 
winds that blew, 

And the hospitable snow-drifts that we had to stum- 
ble through. 

But the commodious barracks, and the host of gen- 
erous friends 

We found down there in Worcester, soon made 
complete amends ; 



POEM. 263 

The drilling-grounds were spacious, and the winds 

began to lull ; 
Oh ! after traveling farther, we sighed for old Camp 

Wool! 

And Colonel "Ward,* who held command, and after- 
wards who died 

A hero's death, we here recall with sorrow, yet with 
pride. 

A courteous gentleman was he ; a soldier true and 
brave ; 

Long let memorial flowers bloom above his honored 
grave! 

And here it was we organized; and for our leader 

chose 
A private at the war's outbreak — a General at its close. 
He needs no cheap insignia now — of eagles, or of 

stars, — 
His badges of nobility are honorable scars. f 

* Colonel George Ward commanded the camp at Worcester 
when the Forty-ninth arrived. The Fifty-first Massachusetts 
Eegiment was also there. Colonel Ward had been in active ser- 
vice, and the artificial leg which he wore testified that he had 
been to the front. He afterwards returned to active duty, and 
eventually fell in battle. 

t Major-General Bartlett was in the Junior Class at Harvard 
when the war broke out. He enlisted as a private for the three 
months' campaign ; then he became Captain in the Twentieth 



264 POEMS. 

The " Bay State "* was a famous place for sociable 

resort, 
Where Captain Shannon took by storm the grand 

Piano Forte ; 
Where Weller improvised the dance, and Doctor 

Rice grew mellow, 
And spun his yarns, which made him out — a devil 

of a fellow ! 



Mahsacliusetts, and was acting mucli of the time while in that 
regiment as Field Officer. At the battle of Ball's Bluff he showed 
great bravery and skill, and succeeded in bringing off from the 
field a small remnant of his men, crossing the river himself in 
the last boat, after seeing his command safely out of the clutches 
of the enemy. While before Yorktown he received a wound in 
his leg, requiring amputation above the knee. Subsequently he 
was appointed Commandant of the post at Camp Briggs, and 
although an entire stranger to the officers of the Forty-ninth, so 
favorably impressed them, that they chose him as their Colonel. 
He served with the regiment, and was severely wounded in the 
attack on Port Hudson, May 27, 1863. After the Forty-ninth 
was mustered out, he became Colonel of the Fifty-seventh, and 
served under Grant in the long campaign of 1864-5 against Bich- 
mond. He was wounded at the battle of the Wilderness, and for 
his bravery promoted to be Brigadier-General. At the attack on 
Petersburgh, at the time of the explosion of the mine. General 
Bartlett was captured, and was a prisoner in the hands of the 
enemy for some time. At the close of the war, he was brevetted 
a Major-General, at the age of twenty-five, a most merited com- 
pliment, most fitly bestowed at the termination of so remarkable 
and brilliant a career. He has since died of diseases contracted 
in the service. 

* The Bay State Hotel, Worcester, was the place where we 
went occasionally to get a "square meal," and have a social time. 



POEM. 265 

The ladies came in troops, to do our necessary stitch- 
ing, 

To glad us with their charming smiles, and manners 
so bewitching ; 

In truth I deem it very sure, had we much longer 
tarried. 

Each bachelor would then and there have been de- 
coyed and married ! 

But orders came to move again ; — again we watched 
in vain 

From day to day, the coming of the transportation 
train ; 

We Hngered through Thanksgiving, and were hap- 
pily sm-prised 

By dinners which those same dear creatures quickly 
improvised. 

Next day we took the Norwich cars, and then the 

" Commodore," 
A steamboat staunch, which bore us straight to old 

Manhattan's shore ; 
And so, one drizzly morning, fatigued and hungered 

all— 
We stretched om' line across the Park, before the 

City Hall. 



266 POEMS. 

The barracks up in Franklin street, became our next 

resort, — 
A place to study insect-life of every phase and sort ; 
"We tarried but a week or so — but plenty long enough ; 
The best accommodations there — to draw it mild — 

were "rough." 

Behold us on Long Island next, at Union Course en- 
camped ; 

The ground was wet, and so our feet and ardor both 
were damped ; 

However, we contrived to hve and flourish passing 
well. 

For Hu-am Woodruff's was hard by, and Snedeker's 
Hotel. 

And here it was we lingered on for quite a length of 

time. 
And many a day experienced the roughness of the 

clime ; 
At East New York we had a row, the Sutler grew so 

mean, 
The boys confiscated his goods, and smashed up his 

machine.* 

* The allusion here is by no means to our old friend Spring- 
steen, but to the rascal who contracted to feed the troops on Long 
Island hy the job, and served the boys with rations of rancid pork 
and beef, that were "an infringement of Goody ear's patent for 
Vulcanized Rubber." 



POEM. 267 

But, by-and-by, they placed our boys, — their com- 
fort to increase, — 

"Where trotting nags had quartered in the piping 
times of peace f 

And here we stayed, and here we drilled, and kept 
om- snug abode, 

And marched our soldiers back and forth, along the 
smooth plank road. 

And now, a large detachment was assigned for pro- 
vost work. 

In picking up deserters in the City of New 
York. 

Our boys resolved themselves into a Vigilance Com- 
mittee, 

To watch that mythic " Elephant," that stalks about 
the city. 

At length there came an order, to our most imfeign- 

ed joy, 
To embark our troops for Dixie, on the steamer " II- 

Hnois ;" 



* The barracks in the rear of Snedeker's Hotel, consisted of the 
stalls which had been used for trotting horses, in connection with 
the races at Union Course. The names of many celebrated nags 
were posted up in the stalls which they had respectively occu- 
pied ; and the use to which these accommodations had come to be 
appropriated, was matter of considerable remark and merriment. 



268 POEMS. 

We set sail in higli feather, — but, arrived off Sandy 

Hook, 
A feeling slightly singular our senses overtook. 

A disposition seized us, to keep the vessel's side, 
And cease our conversation, and only watch the 

tide. 
We found some strange attraction the briny surge 

beneath. 
And many a mouth was wide agape, — and Charlie 

lost his teeth ! 

And when we reached Cape Hatteras, our symptoms 

were redoubled, 
And many a fellow's diaphragm with dreadful qualms 

was troubled ; 
O ever since, when I desire my veriest foe to be 
With heaviest penance visited, I wish him out at 

sea ! 

We gained at length the South-west Pass, of Missis- 
sippi's stream, 

And once more, of smooth waters and green fields, 

« 

began to dream ; 

But our voyage seemed prosecuted beneath a luck- 
less star, 

And our ship was over-freighted, and we couldn't 
cross the bar. 



POEM. 269 

We telegraphed to New Orleans, and soon with joy 

espied 
The Yankee boat, "New Brunswick," at ancher 

alongside. 
She bore ns up the river, and beneath the clear 

moon's light, 
Louisiana's sacred soil regaled our gladdened sight. 

Next morning, as we trod the deck, with interested 

eye. 
We gazed on fine plantations, as we swiftly floated 

by. 

The sweet abodes of peace they seemed, nor could 

we, from afar. 
Discern as yet the havoc wrought by fratricidal 

war. 

And now, upborne in heaven, the Day-king held his 

throne. 
And in the glorious sunlight, a hundred steeples 

shone. 
There sat the Crescent City on the river's eastern 

shore, 
O how unlike the City it had been in days before ! 

Its levees all unoccupied for miles along, save where 
A federal transport lay in wait for orders, here and 
there ; 



270 POEMS. 

While in mid-stream the gunboats lay, with ever 
threat'ning frown, 

And iron fingers pointing towards the proud but con- 
quered to\\Ti. 

And here we ate fresh oranges, and, after noon 
sailed on, 

A few miles up the river, to encamp at Carrol- 
ton, — 

A place, by no means such as that for which our 
hopes were looking, 

The most attractive thing to us, was Madame 
Schraeder's cooking. 

But here we met the Thirty-first ; and glad enough 

were they 
To welcome us, so lately come from Berkshire homes 

away; 
And many a spot we talked about, where we would 

Hke to peep in. 
Of dinners that we used to eat, and beds we used to 

sleep in. 

We took some trips to New Orlean: along about 

those days. 
And studied its geography, and learned its devious 

ways; 



POEM. 271 

And dined at tlie St. Charles Hotel, and looked at 

octoroons, 
But, others having been and gone, we brought away 

no spoons. 

For Baton Eouge we started next, — the night was 
chill and dark. 

It took us until past midnight, our baggage to em- 
bark ; 

The Major's horse fell overboard ; we bivouacked 
on the shore. 

And the Colonel vowed those cook-stoves should 
encumber us no more ! 

We floated up the river all the following day and 

night. 
Till we saw afar the State House, with its massive 

walls of white ; 
And the Hospital we wot of, and the Arsenal, all 

standing 
Along the river's eastern shore, the noble stream 

commanding. 

And here we joined the First Brigade, in Augur's 

famed Division, 
And carried on our strict routine with order and 

precision ; 



272 POEMS. 

And liere, I recollect, we all financially were busted, 
But Train and Morey came across some sutlers 
tliere, who trusted ! 

And here, until the fourteenth day of March, we lay 

at ease, 
When General Banks conceived a plan, with force 

and arms to seize 
The stronghold of Port Hudson ; — ^but here let the 

Muses rest, 
I'll sing that olden ballad ; it will aid our memories 

best. 

THE PASSAGE OF THE MONTESINO * 

Banks, of Shenandoah fame, 

By the Crescent City swore 
That Port Hudson, on the river. 

Should defy his might no more. 



* This ballad, " The Passage of the Montesino," was written at 
the time, and on the spot, and contains scintillations of more than 
one genius. Several officers had a hand in its production. In 
fact, nearly half of it was written before we were invited to take a 
share in the intellectual effort necessary for its completion. The 
several authors would prefer not to publish their names, but we 
are bound to state that the regiment could boast a good deal of 
undeveloped poetical talent. The ballad was read by a great 
many within and without the regiment at the time it was written, 
and we are glad to put it in shape for preservation, after elimi- 
nating some local allusions and hits, the printing of which would 
be matter of doubtful propriety. 



POEM. 273 



By the Crescent City swore it, 
And sent without delay, 

An order to his Chief of Staff, 
To summon his array. 

He summoned to him Farragut, 
And gave him orders sealed ; 

Then, girding on his armor. 

With his staff he took the field. 

Attend ye to the story, 
Which I will now relate ; 

It happened in the Lowlands 
Of Louisiana State. 

'Twas on a cool March morning. 
When we our steeds bestrode ; 

And, just as day was dawning. 
Struck the Bayou Sara road."^^ 

We crossed the Montesino 

By plank bridge, and pontoon ; 

And halted for the bivouac, 
Some three hours after noon.f 



* The road leading out of Baton Eouge, northerly towards Port 
Hudson, some twenty-five miles distant. 

t The Bayou Montesino is a small stream or creek, about six 
miles north of Baton Kouge. The place where we "halted for 
the bivouac " is some miles further north. 



274 POEMS. 

We plucked the rails from off the fence — 
Of boards there were but few, — 

And spread our scanty shelter tents, 
To shield us from the dew. 

The air was filled with squeal of pigs, 

And cackle of the geese ; 
While stalwart oxen lost their hides, 

And simple lambs, their fleece.* 

And now the night was falling, 

Soon rose the evening star ; 
And through the deepening twilight, 

Gleamed camp-fires from afar. 

But hark ! what noise arises I 

This night we sleep no more ; 
For the tide of battle surges 

On Mississippi's shore ! t 

* The "gobbling" done by our men on that expedition, was 
something tremendous. It was strictly forbidden in orders from 
Headquarters ; but hunger knows no law, and officers were obliged 
to wink at some dejiredations iipon private property in the ene- 
my's country, especially as an occasional rare bit thereby found 
its way into their own mess. 

t There was heavy cannonading during the night, as Farragut 
was attempting to pass the batteries on the river, and did succeed 
in passing Port Hudson with the Flagship Hartford, and the Al- 
batross, The head of our column was also near enough to Port 
Hudson to make some demonstration on land, and divert as much 
as possible the attention of the enemy from Farragut's operations. 



POEM. 275 

And now, an aide from Chapin, — 

The Driller of Brigades — * 
An order brings to form the line 

In haste, without parades. 

Upon his own black stallion 

Sat the gallant Brigadier ; 
And he called to him the Colonel, 

And he whispered in his ear ; 

" Our army has attacked the Fort, 
And been repulsed ; " — they say — 

" In haste o'ertake the Forty-eighth,t 
And homeward lead the way ! " 



The bivouac of our brigade was probably three miles east from 
the river, and some miles south from the outer line of fortifica- 
tions of Port Hudson. The explosion of our gunboat, Mississippi 
on the river, lighted up our camp with the glare of day : and the 
report, which was not heard until the lapse of a minute, as it 
seemed, was terrific. This was about three o'clock in the morn- 
ing, and an order coming nearly simultaneously, to fall in, and 
march back the way we came, created a temporary panic which 
is cursorily described in the verses which follow. 

* Colonel Chapin, of the One Hundred and Sixteenth New York, 
Commander of our brigade ; and, as is hinted, an inveterate drill- 
er thereof. He was a brave and faithful officer, and was killed 
at the storming of Port Hudson, on the 27th of May. President 
Lincoln appointed him Brigadier-General, of date the day of his 
death. 

t The Forty-eighth Massachusetts ; which, together with the 
One Hundred and Sixteenth New Yorlc, Twenty -first Maine, and 
our own regiment, constituted our brigade. 



276 POEMS. 

The road is blocked with wagons. 
The darkness settles down ; 

But swiftly marched the Forty-ninth, 
In silence back to town. 

The EoETY-NiNTH marched swiftlj ; 

But swifter far than they, 
Beneath their feet, the Forty-eighth 

Let no grass grow, that day. 

Their Colonel had been ordered 
By General Banks, they say — 

To hold the Montesino, 
And keep the foe at bay. 



The Bayou Montesino reached. 
No foe was there discovered ; 

And silence was the deity, 
That o'er the valley hovered. 

Ah, then, the gallant Forty-eighth 

Did mighty deeds of valor ; 
And courage on each countenance, 

Assumed the place of pallor. 

And now their Colonel, homeward bent- 
Their manly zeal arouses ; 



POEM. 277 

" Press on, brave boys, and seize and hold 
Our lumber and cook-houses ! "^ 

And so, for many a weary mile, 
In toilsome march, we find them ; 

Before them were their household gods ; 
The FoKTY-NiNTH behind them ! 

And now, a short half mile ahead. 
The old camp greets their vision ; 

And each indulges sweet foretaste 
Of sleep and dreams elysian. 

But look ! behind, a cloud of dust 

Our eyes are now discerning ; 
It cannot be ; — it is, it is 

An order for returning If 

The Eeverend Chaplain — worthy soul — 

Had trotted on before ; 
And so he did not hear his flock, 

How dreadfully they swore ! 

* The old camp of the Forty-eighth at Baton Kouge, had been 
very comfortably arranged, with elaborate cook-houses, etc. , and 
the regiment seemed to feel great apprehension, lest some other 
regiment should arrive there first, and establish " cquatter sov- 
ereignty." 

t Just as we came in sight of our old camp that day (the 15th) 
we received orders to march back, and encamp at Bayou Mon- 
tesino. 



278 POEMS. 

The sun was near his setting — 

The clouds betokened rain, 
Wlien, having reached the Bayou, 

We pitched our tents again. 

And now, in all their fury, 

The elements are roaring ; 
And down in "copious torrents, 

The watery flood is pouring. 

O, orange groves and palm-trees ! 

O, land of milk and honey ! 
Where " zephyrs were so very soft, 

And skies so bright and sunny ;" 

We thought to spend a winter here, 

Should fortune so decree it. 
Would be the thing : — but, on that night. 

We really couldn't see it ! 

All o'er the deeply-furrowed field, * 

The waters rose so high. 
Our boys could neither make their beds, 

Nor keep their powder dry. 

* We encamped on "Pike's Plantation," in a field where cane 
had been grown the year before. The furrows were very deep, 
and the rain soon filled them with water. Here we were never- 
theless tired enough to sleep ; but many a poor fellow contracted 
the fever that day and night, which, within a fortnight, consigned 
him to a furrow in which he still lies. 



POEM. 279 

The guns with rust were covered o'er, 

And many a luckless wight 
Began to think his chance was slim, 

If forced into a fight 

But if he dared to try his piece, 

And if it chanced to go ; 
He had to stand at " shoulder arms," 

For half a day or so."^ 

At Bayou Montesino, 

For six long days we stayed, 
To tempt the rebel foemen 

Our precinct to invade. 

We gobbled up their sugar. 

We licked their syrup fine ; 
And longed to lick the rebel 

Who dared approach the line. 



* It was contrary to orders for any one to fire off a piece in 
camp, as false alarms were to be deprecated. One of our officers 
was under arrest for a week for firing off a pistol. The boys were 
sometimes very sure that their guns were so rusty that they 
wouldn't go off, and the cartridges couldn't be drawn with a 
wormer ; and, furthermore, an attack from the rebels was hourly 
expected. Yet if an unlucky private tried his piece, and it did go, 
he was summoned up in the front of the Colonel's quarters, and 
ordered to do penance by standing there under arms tiU duly re- 
leased. The muse records this as an instance of dilemmas in 
which soldiers were sometimes placed. 



280 POEMS. 

But only to O'Brien's^ gaze, 
And the gallant cavaliers, 

Who hailed from "Little Ehodj," 
The enemy appears. 

In vain did General Dudley 

His whole brigade deploy, 

« 

And execute manoeuvres, 
The rebels to decoy. 

For, as that famous army 
Aforetime, marched in vain ; 

So, Dudley did go forward, 
And bravely back again, t 

Of all that week's adventures, 
We lack the words to tell ; 



* Lieutenant-Colonel O'Brien, of the Forty-eighth Massachu- 
setts ; an impulsive, but brave Irishman, who commanded the 
storming party at Port Hudson, May 27, was killed. On one 
occasion, while at Bayou Montesino, he was officer of the day ; 
and a company of Bhode Island cavalry, who wer3 out on picket, 
thought they discovered the enemy approaching, and reported 
accordingly to Colonel O'Brien, who rushed to Headquarters and 
made such representations that Dudley's brigade of our division 
was ordered out to meet the intruders. It proved to be a false 
alarm. 

f " The French marched up the hill with an army of ten thou- 
sand men, and then — marched down again ! " 



POEM. 281 I 

" I never see that ! " says she with " Jock " | 

And sighs " Ah ! weU ! well ! well ! " - ^ 

At length there came an order — : 

On dress-parade 't was read ; — : 

'T was General Banks who sent it, — ; 

Now what do you think it said ? t j 

j 
" My vaHant hoj^ ; take courage ! ; 

Our object is attained ; ] 

Your cue is to be jubilant, 1 

For victory has been gained. j 

" Perhaps you deemed it ' running,' i 

The morn you were so fleet ; 
But the truth is you were making j 

A * masterly retreat ! ' 

"You see, I only wanted — . 

While Farragut passed through j 

The gauntlet on the river — 

That you should halloo ' Boo ! ! ! ' 

" I came a week beforehand, 
To Baton Kouge, you know ; 



* Favorite expressions of astonishment with Frenchman 
"Jock," the Colonel's servant. 

t General Banks issued a congratulatory order, saying the ob- 
ject of our march was accomplished, etc., but as we had failed to 
capture Port Hudson, we could hardly "see the point." 



282 POEMS. 

And had a very grand review ; — 
But that was all for show. 

"And now, my boys, I thank ye, 
For gallant deeds ye've done ; 

Go back to cami^ and rest ye 
On the laurels ye have won. 

*' And in the long hereafter, 
Be this your glorious boast ; — 

*We went with Banks's army 

To Port Hudson almost ! 



Then there came a thrilling order in the following 

month of May, 
To take by storm Port Hudson, with ardor to essay. 
It was a fearful struggle, and the muse forbears to 

dwell 
On that momentous conflict, and the fate which there 

befel.* 



* On the 27tli of May, the Forty-ninth had one company (G) 
on provost duty at Baton Kouge ; Company F was guarding the 
baggage train ; about one hundred men were on picket duty, and 
a large number in convalescent camp and hospital, bo that but 
two hundred and thirty-three men took part in the assault. Of 
this number, sixteen were killed and sixty-four wounded, making 
eighty in all— more than one third of the whole number. The 



POEM. 283 

For memory will remind us of the gallant boys wlio 
died, 

While with us there contending, fighting bravely, 
side by side ; 

Who sleep in nameless graves afar beneath that 
Southern sod, 

And whose souls were thence uplifted to the pres- 
ence of their God. 

O, if no other impulse moved our hearts to gather 

here. 
To hold one brief communion, with each recurring 

year ; 
Our duty still were plain enough, since, hapty, we 

survive. 
Their sacrifice to count, and keep their memories 

alive. 

O, such a brotherhood as ours, we shall not find else- 
where, 

And ours are obligations that we never may for- 
swear ; 



Colonel and Lieutenant-Colonel were both wounded, and every 
company had one or more officers killed or wounded. Officers 
and soldiers who served throughout the war, and who partici- 
pated in the assault of May 27, have pronounced it one of the se- 
verest and bloodiest engagements in the history of the war. 



284 P0EM8. j 

The warm, fraternal flame within our breasts can \ 

ne'er expire, 
For our initiation was The Baptism of Fike. ! 

From the threshold of Eternity, amid the battle's din. 

We did hardly meet dismissal, as our brothers en- 
tered in ; 

They have crossed the stream to where the fields \ 
with lasting verdure smile, ] 

And we, upon its hither shore, are lingering 3^et \ 
awhile. ! 

Yet not unscathed did we escape the battle's angry 

storm, — j 

I stand surrounded here by many a scarred and I 

shattered form. I 

The grim Death-Angel, hurling forth his missiles j 

thick and fast. 
Gave some of us the tokens of his presence as he ; 

passed. ! 

Then let us praise the God of Hosts, whose overrul- 
ing power 

Did shield us, and deliver us in that portentous hour ; \ 

Nor let those heroes moulder there, unhonored and j 
unwept. 

In that mysterious sleep which peradventure we had | 
slept ! ■ 



FOEM. 285 

Thus, brothers, in numbers less brief than intended, 
I have sung, as my impulses moved me ; and now. 

Ere the har]3 be unstrung, and its minstrelsy ended, 
Let us banish the sadness that sits on each brow. 

The conflict is over ; and Victory, descending, 
Is perched on the Banner, so proudly we bore ; 

And the white Dove of Peace its glad i^resence is 
lending, 
And we hst to the clamor of battle no more. 

I have sung of our perils by land and by water, 
And glimpses of by-gones have sought to unfold ; 

Of scenes of enjoyment, of hardship, of slaughter ; 
Yet how much, after all, there remaineth untold ! 

But while memory lasts, though our heads become 
hoary. 

The events we were part of, we shall not forget ; 

But to our childrens' children shall narrate the story, 

While with tears sympathetic, their eyes shall be 

wet. 

And as time shall roll on, let us happily gather. 
Now and then one more glance retrospective to 
cast; 

With a fondness and longing, unlessened, but rather 
More deep, as our years recede into the past. 



286 POEMS. 

And now, let the generous cup be o'erflowing 
With grateful libations, potential to cheer; 

The rapture of social enjoyment bestowing, 

As we strengthen the ties of our fellowship here. 

S. B. S. 



LINES. 287 

LINES, 

KEAD AT GREAT BARRINGTON, MASS., JULY 4, 1867, ON 
THE OCCASION OF THE VISIT OF AMEKICUS HOSE COM- 
PANY, OF BRIDGEPORT, TO GREAT BARRINGTON, 
AS THE GUESTS OF HOPE COMPANY, NO. 1. 

Those sempiternal editors, on both sides of tlie border, 
Who, sometimes, for the lack of news, concoct a 

batch to order, — 
Have been proclaiming all along, that, previous to 

the races,"^ 
My Pegasus would volunteer to show the crowd his 

paces. 

I wish those editors could know how serious a thing 
It is, on all occasions to be advertised to sing ; 
And, furthermore, that Pegasus, when once you try 

the rule 
That — will he, nil he — he shall go : — is staky as a 

mule ! 

And yet, upon this festal day, when, on my native 

heather. 
So many new and old-time friends are haply met 

together ; 

* The exercises of the celebration that day, concluded with 
races on the Housatonic Fair Grounds. 



288 F0EM8. 

I fain would clothe the sentiments which to the hour 

belong 
In drapery of fitting rhyme, and comely garb of song. 

I stand upon my native hills ; and once again be- 
hold 

Familiar scenes — all redolent of memories of old ; 

The grand old elms in majesty the smiling landscape 
crown, 

And on the sweet vale, as of yore, the lordly hills 
look down. 

I clasp the hands of early friends ; while, answering 

to my gaze, 
Gleam genial stranger faces here, — the friends of 

latter days ; 
The present and the past unite ; — the mountains 

greet the sea, — 
The rare occasion is replete with poetry to me. 

Here did my young eyes look their first on things 

beneath the sun, — 
Here were my earliest lessons learned ; my earhest 

prizes won ; 
Here the delightful school-boy days flew onward all 

too fast. 
And here my early manhood years in sweet content 

were passed. 



LINES. 289 

And many a merry, glorious Fourth, as year suc- 
ceeded year, 

Have I, in unforgotten days, enjoyed and welcomed 
here. 

There's many an " old inhabitant " can testify, I 
trow, 

What annual racket I helped make — say twenty 
years ago ! 

We boys were wont to congregate in force the eve 

before. 
And make the whole night hideous with glare, and 

din, and roar. 
I met some of them, — older grown — last evening at 

the train, 
And, for the nonce, I could but feel that we were 

boys again ! 

But those old times have passed away ; — their very 
memories seem 

Far down the distant retrospect, like some mysteri- 
ous dream. 

No more those primitive affairs in once secluded vale : 

For, now-a-days, we celebrate upon a larger scale. 

No sanguine orator unto my boyish ears foretold 
In highest flights of prophecy, the scene we here be- 
hold. 



290 POEMS. 

The " woolen works " in Barrington were then but 

sheep and lambs, 
And Bridgeport, an obscure resort for men in quest 

of clams. 

The steam-car was unknown up through the Housa- 

tonic vale ; 
'Twas deemed a quite indecorous thing to ride upon 

a rail ; 
The man who lived in Berkshire, and had seen Long 

Island Sound, 
Was no small " pumpkins," you may bet, in all the 

country round ! 

But, by-and-by, the thought occurred to some sa- 
gacious mind. 

Old Berkshire to Long Island Sound, by railroad 
ties to bind ; 

So, Barrington's the depot now for many a thriving 
town. 

And Bridgeport has become, indeed, a city of re- 
nown. 

And so it was a pleasant thought for Berkshire boys, 

to-day, 
To bid us hasten hither from a hundred miles 

away. 



LINES. 291 

I know a heartier patriotism each stranger bosom 

thrills, 
Inhaled with this sweet atmosphere among the 

Berkshire hills ! 

And now, may this acquaintanceship, so pleasantly 

begrm, 
Betain a lasting friendship in the breast of every 

one; 
And when the day is over, and we seek our homes 

again. 
May each have added one bright link to memory's 

golden chain ! 

S. B. S. 



292 POEMS. 



POEM, 

DEUVERED BEFORE THE GR^ND CHAPTER OP THE ZETA 

PSI FRATERNITY, AT DELMONICO's, NEW YORK 

CTTY, DECEMBER 27, 1867. 

I GO back twenty years to-night, and bring to mind 
the days. 

When with my college peers I strove to win scholas- 
tic bays ; 

And varied the routine of tasks laborious and dry, 

By joining in the mystic rites of glorious Zeta Psi. 

I see, in that far retrospect, that little band of ours. 

Which held its conclaves jast beyond where lordly 
Greylock towers : — 

For I'm a Berkshire boy, and gained my academic 
knowledge 

In what you might be pleased to term, a mere " fresh- 
water college." 

O, very pleasant were the hours we spent within the 

place 
Where our enthroned Hierophant alone unveiled his 

face ; 
Vouchsafing intellectual food to each and every one. 
And eke the generous dessert of good-fellowship and 

fun. 



POEM. 293 

What rousing times we used to have, electioneering, 

then. 
When each commencement-day brought on a bevy 

of fresh men ; 
When every society disparaged all the others, 
And reaped the annual harvest of its new-inducted 

brothers ! 

I've been a politician since, and mingled in the 

brawls 
Of primaries, and caucuseSj and legislative halls ; 
And watched poKtical machines, and been within 

the ring. 
And button-holed the Governor, and all that sort of 

thing; 

But ne'er within my memory did affairs of such con- 
cern 

Depend on human strategy, or fate's capricious turn. 

As those contentions, who should hold the favorite 
positions, 

And bear away the honors at the college exhibi- 
tions. 

And when it chanced, — to gladden my enthusiastic 

eye,— 
That on the victor's person flashed the badge of 

Zeta Psi ; 



294 POEMS. 

I tell you, 't was a prize unmatclied by many later 

toys,— 
For men still clutcli their playthings, and are simply 

older boys. 

The college is a microcosm ; and if we don't inherit. 
We're sure as students to imbibe enough of party 

spirit ; 
The tree inclines precisely as at first you bend the 

twig — 
A. Oakey was a " Kap," I'm told, and Hoffman was 

a " Sig." 

The youth who leads a college clique, will, doubtless, 

lead a clan 
Somewhere, upon a larger scale, when he becomes a 

man; 
And he whom all his cronies hailed, a jovial, genial 

fellow, 
Will hold his own, e'en when the leaf of Hfe is sere 

and yellow. 

The boys of twenty years ago ! as I recall them 

now. 
Alternate shade and sunshine seem to flit across my 

brow : 



POEM. 295 

I follow down the catalogue the old names, one by 

one, 
And note with varied sentiments what time for each 

hath done. 

There's one, is U. S. Senator ; and two or three de- 
termine 

The weighty matters of the law, and wear judicial 
ermine ; 

And some have found the source of wealth remark- 
ably prolific. 

Upon the far Nevada heights, and shores of the Pa- 
cific. 

Some argue causes at the bar, and legal quibbles 

moot. 
And some — ^Lord help them ! — strive to " teach the 

young idea to shoot ;" 
Some deal in goods and merchandise, with manners 

bland and pleasing, 
And some the tortured purse of poor old " Uncle 

Sam " are squeezing. 

Some grace the pulpit, and proclaim the everlasting 

Word; 
Some, in the latter pregnant times, have wielded well 

the sword ; 



296 POEMS. 

And one — a mighty handsome chap — a veritable 

Paris — 
Has simply raised a fine moustache, and — carried off 

an heiress ! 

Some boast a goodly heritage, and live aloof from 

cares ; 
Some operate in fancy stocks, among the *• Bulls 

and Bears ;" 
Some scribble for the papers, and employ the art 

phonetic ; 
Some wake the oratoric strain, and some the strain 

poetic. 

And some, in life's bright morning, have responded 

to the call. 
Which, soon or late, shall send forth its alarum to 

us all. 
I count upon that little list, the death stars ; — they 

are seven ; 
So many old-time friends have sped from earth — we 

trust, to Heaven. 

But turn we now to witness, after lapse of twenty 
years. 

How fair a thing, and vigorous, our Zeta Psi ap- 
pears ; 



POEM. 297 

From tiny seed, on welcome soil, the forest mon- 

archs grow. 
And they who plant, do oftentimes plant wiser than 

they know. 

The tender shoot, whose destiny no mortal might 
foresee. 

Hath grown, and flourished, and become a very 
Banyan tree ; 

And hundreds of ingenuous youth, beneath its bow- 
ers have strayed, 

To hear the whispering of its leaves, and linger 
'neath its shade. 

We build our own best monuments ; our own deeds, 

after aU, 
Outlast the brass, or marble, or the niche in storied 

hall. 
Well saith the Poet — " We ourselves can make our 

lives sublime. 
And, dying, leave behind us footprints on the sands 

of Time." 

I know not whether simple slab, or more pretentious 

pile, 
Kepeats the tale that Sommers* Hved, and wrought 

on earth awhile ; 

* John B. Yates Sommers, — Founder of the Fraternity. 



298 POEMS, 

What recks he, since in hearts like these shall be en- 
shrined his name, 

And Time itseK shall only add fresh laurels to h'*' 
fame ! 

And now, dear brothers, standing here, within your 

midst, I seem 
Like mythic Eip Yan Winkle, softly wakened from 

a dream. 
Emotions passing sweetest song my inmost heart 

o'erflow. 
As I renew the vows to-day of twenty years ago. 

I feel it was a kindly act, rejuvenating me, 

Who watched the infant stem erewhile, to now be- 
hold the tree. 

The choruses of bygone years repeat their glad re- 
frain, 

And I am Heaven's favorite — a college boy again ! 

And now, long live our Zeta Psi ! and as the years 

roll round. 
May roots and branches new on our fraternal tree 

be found ; 
And ever and anon, beneath its overhanging boughs. 
May it be ours to congregate, and ratify our vows. 



POEM. 299 

And you, my younger brethren, pray remember, that 

to me, 
And my compeers, you owe it now, to cultivate the 

tree ; 
So shall it thrive, and may kind Heaven vouchsafe 

that you and I, 
May Hve to see our grand-sons wear the badge of 

Zeta Psi 1 

S. B. S. 



300 POEMS. 

A LEGEND OF BLACK ROCK. 

AN" OWER TRUE TALE. 

'TwAS on the first of April, and the sun had just gone 
down, 

And the shades of night were falling on a certain 
sea-coast town ', 

When a few congenial spirits somehow happened to 
combine, 

At the Doctor's fco assemble, and discourse of tur- 
pentine.* 

Now, these chaps who thus assembled, we may just 
as well premise. 

Were a parcel of stockholders in a famous enter- 
prise, 

To extract from out a cord of wood, when duly baked 
and fried. 

Turpentine, tar, coal, and acid, and no end of gas 
beside. 

But like all contrivance human, this had had its ups 

and downs. 
And dame fortune had cajoled it with alternate 

smiles and frowns, 

* Dr. J , an entliusiastic stockholder. 



A LEGEND OF BLACK BOCK 301 

And the sessions at the sanctum where the Doctor 

sat in state, 
Had been frequent as the changes and vicissitudes 

of fate. 

When the " Holmes "* came in all laden with a car- 
go worth the while, 

It was better than his doses to behold the Doctor's 
smile. 

When 'twas thought the " Holmes " was cast away, 
and every one felt blue, 

*T was the Doctor who could, best of all, their flag- 
ging hopes renew. 

Now, on this same first of April, there had been a 

lucky fry, 
And the hopes of all the party were proportionately 

high. 
And the Doctor was foretelling, with the wisdom of 

a prophet. 
How this would beat all frying pans elsewhere this 

side of Tophet. 

Just then there came a knocking at the Doctor's of- 
fice door. 

And a rather stout man opened it, and stalked the 
threshold o'er ; 

♦ The " Madison Holmes," a schooner bought by the Company 
for transporting pine from North Carolina. 



302 POEM^. 

Said he, " Get up your horse, Doctor, as quick as 

e'er you can, 
Our deuced works are all a-fire, as I'm a living 

man!" 

Up rose the frightened company, in consternation 
aU, 

And on each countenance at once there came a sol- 
emn pall, 

But the Doctor cried, " Sit still, my boys ; no April 
fool am I, — 

There's no such thing ; and as for you, I tell you 
sir, you lie!" 

But the stout man called the negro man, and bade 

him go ahead. 
And get the best nag harnessed, and the buggy from 

the shed ; 
And the Doctor compromised so far, he'd go at least 

to see 
What, under heaven, all that flame and ominous 

smoke could be. 

They westward drove — the Doctor and the stout 

aforesaid man ; 
A lurid light the while had come, the western sky to 

span ; 



A LEGEND OF BLACK JROCK 303 

They reached, they crossed Division street ; in mad 

career they flew, 
When all at once the dreadful scene burst forth upon 

their view ! 

"My God! my God!" the Doctor cried; "and do 

I wake or dream ? 
And can that be our kindling wood which makes that 

awful gleam ? 
And must they burst, those tender chords, that bind 

this heart of mine, 
To all those cords of wood, and eke that tar and 

" turpentine !" 

Meanwhile the stout man cocked his eye, and with 
poetic gaze, 

Regarded Nature's grander moods, and watched the 
gorgeous blaze. 

" Behold ! " said he, " my friend, behold, how awful- 
ly sublime. 

Up toward the stars, to contemplate those blazing 
cinders climb ! " 

" Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " the Doctor said, " why over- 
flow my cup 

Of sorrow, as I only see my fondest hopes go 
up. 



304 P0EM8. '. 

Untold per cent., softest of things, and almost here ; 

in pocket, — i 

Spirit of Sliadrach ! there it goes, brief, brilliant as 

a rocket ! " 

In rage the Doctor lashed his steed ; they quickly 

cleared the mile. 
Which brought them to the fated spot where they j 

had staked theh pile. ; 

'T was nothing but a funeral pile ; they could do ^ 

nought but mourn. 
For that which was, but now had gone to that pro- . ! 

verbial "bourne." 
****** I 

The pensive pilgrim, as he wends his way along the i 

coast, ; 

May note to-day an inlet, whose good harborage is i 

its boast ; i 

A splendid shaft there towers, inscribed, "A.-D.,- 

i_8-6-9." ; 

Which means to say — " This classic field is soaked '• 

with — TUEPENTINE ! " j 

S. B. S. \ 



ROSE COTTAGE REMimSCENCES. 305 ] 

EOSE COTTAGE EEMINISCENCES. 

TO MRS. JOSEPHINE . i 

You threw me down " the glove " one day — i 

(The " mitten " long before !) 
And bade me in some simple lay i 

Eecall the times of yore ; 
When you and I were lass and lad, i 

And life-tints all were rosy, 
Whose pleasures were in common had, i 

By *' Samivel " and " Josie." I 

So, Josie, dear ; — for e'en so now 

I'll venture to address thee, — 
Tho' other lips retm^ned thy vow, 

And other hands caress thee, — | 

A ballad of the olden time * • 

I'll sing ; — but since our houses i 

Are side by side, pray keep the rhyme I 

A secret from our spouses ! 1 

I 
And to begin : two decades back ! 

Along the vale of years, " 

A distant speck on memory's track, J 

" Eose Cottage " school appears. ' 



306 FOEMS. 

The place is strangely altered now, 

And where the roses flourished, 
There stands a shrine where sinners bow, 

And hungry souls are nourished. 

I mind me of the " corridor " — 

A sort of masked embrasure, 
Behind which maidens waited for 

And spied the beaux at leisure. 
I mind me of the houses twain. 

Between, the cosy arbor, — 
When " Tommy " chased some venturous swain, 

'T was no ungrateful harbor. 

O, peaceful scenes ! O, classic shades ! 

Where precept and example 
Were both combined in three staid maids — 

'T would seem the means were ample 
To keep those cloistered nuns intent 

Upon the tasks before them ; 
And yet how many a smile was lent 

To lads who dared adore them ! 

And oh ! what various, nameless arts, 

And how much necromancy. 
Did occupy those loving hearts. 

To circumvent " Miss Nancy ! " 



ROSE COTTAGE REMINISCENCES. 307 

j 

IIow, in a trice, on many a night, 

That lawn became Sahara, ' 
As dawned on some fond couple's sight, 

The spectre of " Miss Sarah ! " 

.'I 

I recollect the serenade ; 

Was quite a favorite cover, j 

'Neath which the old, old game was played \ 

'Twixt lady-love and lover : | 

For, while the song allured each ear, j 

And melodies were blending, \ 

The hiLlets doux to windows near \ 

Were covertly ascending ! ! 

But as for me, I quite despised 

The rash, adventurous measures, 
By ardent lovers improvised 

For amatory pleasures. \ 

To me opposed no envious space j 

Those fairy realms to gain ; j 

For, 'tmxt them and my dweUing-place ] 

Was nothing but a lane. \ 

Lord ! how my heart went pit-a-pat, \ 

And all that sort of thing, 

As 'neath that portico I sat, \ 

To hear my charmer sing. 



308 POEMS. 

I studied law, — or so professed, — 

But now, at this remove, 
The truth were just as well confessed, — 

I learned no law but love. 

yes ! I fell in love, of course ; 
But did not dare to tell it. 

For fear 'twould make the matter worse, 

Should my beloved repel it. 
'Twere bad enough to lose my heart, 

But vastly better so. 
Than have my darling say " depart ! " 

And tell me — " not for Joe ! " 

And so, no doubt, it came about 
That when school-days were over, 

" That other fellow " found you out. 
And proved a bolder lover. 

But, sometimes, as my thoughts recur 
To that " Eose Cottage " garden, 

1 heave one sigh for " hours that were," 

And feel Hke " Enoch Arden." 

S. B. S. 



LINES. 309 



LINES. 

READ AT THE CLAM-BAKE WHICH WAS GIYEN AT THE RE- 
UNION OF THE FORTY-NINTH REGIMENT, MASSA- 
CHUSETTS VOLUNTEEES, AT PITTSFIELD, 
SEPT. 11, 1873. 

Strange ! how a clam, a closed-mouthed thing, 

and undeclamatory, 
Should make you all so clamorous for speech, or 

song, or story ; 
But observation goes to show, at divers times and 

places, 
The stillest fellows, oftentimes, turn out the hardest 

cases. 

A missive from the adjutant, a week or so ago, 
Announced that you would shell to-day your old bi- 

valvous foe ; 
And then, apparently to make the invitation louder. 
He added, with significance, "there'll also be clam- 
chowder !" 

He bade me join the festive crowd, and gulph a clam 

or two, 
Since, when the war was raging, I was on the Gulf 

with you. 



310 POEMS. 

Said lie, " there'll be a cliowder mixt of mirth and \ 
speech and song, i 

And clams with toast, and toasts with clams; so, 
prithee, come along !" 

" Oh, no you don't ! " at first methought ; " I know .] 
what you're about — 1 

You only want to ope my shell, and then, to draw , 
me out. 

I see what you are raldng for ; I do, by the Eternal ! 

And after you have shelled the clams, you mean to 
shell the Colonel! — 

And yet, upon reflection, it will never do," — 

thinks I — ' 

" To let so glorious a chance for feed and fun go by, | 
I'll chew upon 't ; for maugre all apologetic shams, \ 
Clam-av-i de jprofwndis — I am always death on 

clams !" 

{ 

And so I come ; and knowing well how very apt I J 

am 
To overeat, and thus become as stupid as a clam, j 

I bring my post-coenatic toast, all ready- wrought in , 

song. 
Done up like clams, compact and round — I never ! 

liked them " long !" j 



LINES. 311 

So here's to you, my gallant boys — old Berkshire's 
noble sons, 

Who erst amid the battle's din, stood firmly by the 
guns. 

And oft on many a well-fought field, made every 
" Johnny " stare, 

When something worse than clam-sheUs went career- 
ing thro' the air ! 

Bight bravely did ye clamber up the heights, where 

lurked afar 
The foe, amid the horrid din and clamor of the 

war; 
And over-stayed your term, until Port Hudson's 

pluck had died out, 
Resolved to break their boasted shell, and sworn to 

" clam the tide out !" 

Oh, how as yesterday they seem — the old f amiHar 
scenes, 

Of which we each and all were part, way down at 
New Orleans ! 

No shght fraternal kinship binds us henceforth to 
each other. 

In every one I recognize a comrade and a broth- 
er. 



312 POEMS. 

A health to each and every one, and as tlie years 

roll round, 
May each one at the annual feast continue to be 

found, 
And live to see a grand career attend our Uncle 

Sam, 
And spend his days in sweet content, and — happy 

as a clam ! 

S. B. S. 



MILK 313 

Extract from a poem entitled 
MILK. 

WRITTEN FOR THE SOCIAL AND LITERARY ENTERTAIN- 
MENT, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., JANUARY 6, 1870. 

We're sometliing like those funny fisli we see be- 
neath the tide, 

Which often, as we watch them close, display a 
whiter side. 

This whiter side, which seems a part of every human 
being. 

When once we get a gHmpse of it, is always worth 
the seeing. 

You think yourself familiar with some cross and 

crabbed neighbor, 
Because you see him come and go about his wonted 

labor. 
Till some day you shall meet him with his harness 

off, and mellow, 
And find him, to youi' great surprise, a downright 

genial fellow. 

I knew a man, I thought so mean, 'twas simply his 

to grovel, 
Until I caught him laughing o'er the contents of a 

novel ; 



314 POEMS. 

And such a knack that fellow had, at anecdote re- 
peating, 

He'd turn into high carnival, the stiffest quaker 
meeting! 

Men's very foibles often make their most attractive 

features, 
To tell the truth — 'twixt you and me — I hate these 

perfect creatures ! 
I honor each embodiment of goodness, truth and 

meekness. 
But hang the chap who won't confess one amiable 

weakness ! 

The life of every mortal man is more or less a rid^ 

die,— 
Why, Nero must have had some soul ; because he 

played the fiddle ! 
The hardest, driest human plant which Nature e'er 

produces, 
Would not be human, did it not exude some frag- 

rant juices. 

All men are poets — it is said — and 'tis a saying 

trite, — 
There must be poets who can feel what other poets 

write ; 



MILK 315 

All ! those unwritten hymns the soul unto itself hath 

sung, 
In tabernacles not of clay, may one day find a 

tongue ! 

The whiter side of every man — no matter how re- 
nowned, 

However brave, however great, or gifted, or pro- 
found — 

It is the side which gives the zest to biographic 
story, 

And rounds at least the hero's fame, and supple- 
ments his glory. 

The hero soon becomes a myth, who shows no 

whiter side ; 
Of whom grave history simply states, he lived and 

wrought and died ; 
Some altogether human traits their added light must 

shed. 
Or else, although his works survive, the man is very 

dead. 

His whiter side, when all the scenes of mortal life are 

past, 
I reckon will best satisfy the man himself at 

last. 



316 POEMS. ; 

We may find sermons everywhere; — behold the ' 

fishes even, 
How, when they die, they always turn the whiter 

side to heaven ! j 

And now I come to tell you why we are, or should | 

be here — \ 

To sink our selfish selves, and let our better selves i 

appear ; ■ 

To linger for a little while on one of life's oases, \ 

And help each other cultivate our most redeeming | 

graces. \ 

Come, let us then be human, and deal gently with 

each other, j 

And find in every one a friend, and every friend a \ 

brother ; ' 

What sweets the cup of life affords, O let us freely 

share — 1 

A few more kind or selfish deeds, and we shall be — j 

elsewhere ! i 

\ 
Here let us interchange the gifts vouchsafed us from | 

above. 
Of wisdom, wit, or melody, — at any rate, of Love, 
And have our hearts impregnated with Charity's \ 

sweet leaven, 
A httle purged of earthly dross — a little nearer 

Heaven. i 



MILK 317 ] 

i 
So, I've discoursed of milk ; like mercy's quality, 

not strained — \ 

From far beyond the milky-way, like gentle dew- ' 

drops rained ; » 

Perhaps the song has been obscure ; perhaps it was i 

your blindness — 
You recognize the theme at last — " The Milk of Hu- 
man Kindness." 

S. B. S. -\ 



318 POEMS. 



GAGEOW. 

WRITTEN IN A GREEN HOUSE, UPON HEARING OF THE ILL- 
NESS OF A TENDER PLANT, WHICH HAD BEEN 
NURTURED IN A WARM CLIMATE. 

If the Dutch Flora thinks he floors, 
Or, if the Florid thinks he's floored, 

They know not well the subtle powers 
By which the brightest color's lowered. 

Far and Forgot are sweet with mist ; 

Shadow and sunHght, still I'm game ; 
My vanished head-piece struck Grow's fist ; 

He 'scaped ; I fell, but take the blame. 

They reckon ill who count me out ; 

"When quick I fly, I triumph bring ; 
I am the router and the rout — 

Alone the bully of the ring ! 

Galusha trespassed on our aisle, 

I knew not of his sacred art ; 
Now a meek Christian do I smile — 

I heard no sound, I feel no smart. 



GAGROW. 319 

ARGUMENT. 

For ; If a Dutchman thinks he hits, 

Or, if the fallen feels a blow. 
They know not well the subtle pits 

That keep, and stub a brave man's toel 

C.A.Sc 



320 POEMS. 

POEM, 

READ ON DECORATION DAY, AT BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 
30, 1869. 

Once again, O faithful comrades, we are welcoming 

the hour 
When the spring-time lingers only to resign her 

floral dower ; 
And with tenderest emotion, and with reverent steps, 

we tread 
"Wliere the proud earth shrines the ashes of our 

brave, heroic dead. 

In the hallowed burial-places, other loved and lost 
ones lie. 

But we do not heed their presence, as to-day we pass 
them by. 

And the harvest of the roses with a jealous hand 
bestow, 

Where the partners of our own best deeds are mould- 
ering cold and low. 

Let republics prove unmindful of the love they once 

professed. 
And withhold the meed of honor from their noblest 

and their best : 



POEM. 321 

And to newer idols turn them with unseemly haste 

aside, 
And forget those who but yesterday so gloriously 
. died; 

We have sworn that long as unto us remembrances 
shall come 

Of the sad adieus to cherished ones, and dear de- 
lights of home ; 

Of the hardships of the prison, of the pestilence's 
ire, — 

Of the weary march, and battle's awful baptism of 
fire; 

That the comrades who endured with us the labor 

and the pain ; 
Who in youth's high flush went bravely forth, but 

came not back again. 
Shall be heroes of a treasured past, we shall not 

cease recall, 
Till ourselves shall clasp in close embrace the mother 

of us all ! 

And to all else we give pause to-day, that vernal 

flowers may bloom 
In a superadded beauty on the patriot's early 

tomb; 



322 POEMS. 

And we gather 'neatli these fresh-clad boughs, that, 

vocal as of yore, 
Now rej)eat ^olian dirges for the brave that are no 

more! 

Nor with us alone to-day do scarred and shattered 

forms attend. 
Where the voices, sweet at once, and sad, of grateful 

memory blend; 
For in all the land, from Kennebec to Mississippi's 

shore, 
Do the roses shed their fragrance for the brave that 

are no more. 

And by many a widowed hand to-day, in mansion 

and in cot, 
Hath been twined the fair anemone with sweet 

forget-me-not ; 
And in many a nameless orphan-girl hath 'wakened 

proud desire, 
To assert, in this mute eloquence, the valor of her 

sire! 

O I the wealth of buried heroes that our nation boasts 

to-day, — 
In the soil where we were nurtured, on the prairies 

far away, — 



POEM. 323 

In the town and in the hamlet, and by every moun- 
tain side, 

They are sleeping 'neath the altars for whose sanc- 
tity they died. 

But, my comrades, we would ne'er forget, nor could 

we if we would, 
Wliat a multitude unnumbered of our glorious 

brotherhood 
Are asleep in rude, unnoticed, undiscoyerable 

graves. 
In the regions that the Cumberland or Mississippi 

laves ; 

In the lone graves, hollowed darkly, where the camp- 
fires dared not burn. 

And by hands that on the morrow should be lifeless 
in their turn ; 

Or in trenches, where in hot haste, when the bat- 
tle's rage was spent. 

Horse and rider, friend and foeman, in red burial 
were blent ! 

Little dreamed he, youth ingenuous of twenty years 

ago. 
Gazing out upon a future with auroral hopes 

aglow, 



324 POEMS. 

Tliinking only of a life-work, o'er which Peace her 

rays should shed, 
And of Death, beside the hearth-stone — children's 

faces round his bed ; — 

Little dreamed he, little dreamed ye, who had known 

him as ye thought, 
How much God-hke and heroic in his nature was 

inwrought. 
Which occasion should enkindle, till from mean and 

trivial things, 
He should rise to deeds that challenge envy in the 

breasts of kings ! 

Thus we sometimes may discover, how, Avhile prison- 
ers of time. 

From resources deep within us, we can make our 
Hves subhme ; 

And we see, although but darkly, and with dim and 
finite eye, 

When this chrysalism endeth, what we may be by- 
and-by ! 

Let them sleep, those nameless heroes, where so gal- 
lantly they fell, 

Where I seem to see the wild-flower bloom, their 
resting place to tell; 



POEM, 325 

Where the earth, enriched with noble blood, seems 
dressed in brighter green, 

And our thoughts in ghostly forms to-day, are hover- 
ing o'er the scene ! 

And the wild-birds sing their requiem above their 
lowly graves. 

And the sad magnolia, weeping there, its solemn 
branches waves ; 

And the voices, inarticulate, of Nature's choir, de- 
clare 

That the soil around is hallowed ground, for the 
warrior dead are there ! 

Let them sleep, while roll the centuries in ceaseless 
tide away, 

Till at last the grand Eeveille sounds to usher in the 
day. 

When the whole of Earth's Grand Army shall be- 
take them to their rest. 

With the armies that encamp around the cities of 
the blest ! 

Let this hour repeat the lesson — ever old, yet ever 

new, — 
That at best we are but shadows, and what shadows 

we pursue. 



326 POEMS, 

What are we among the millions of the universal 
spheres, 

That are going and are coming, through the wilder- 
ness of years ? 

Here to-day, the waves of Lethe we would gladly 

hold in thrall. 
But its dark, oblivious waters, must ere long enguK 

us all ; 
And our story in the distant future ages shall be 

told. 
As we tell of Babylonians, and Babylon, of old ! 

Yet we know there are implanted deep in every hu- 
man breast, 

Germs of noble aspiration, and mysterious unrest. 

The economy that shapes the orbs, yet notes the 
sparrow's fall. 

In the everlasting Drama, hath a part for each and 
aU. 

After all, then, life is earnest, and in life's severe re- 
view. 

Many years do not so signify, as what we are, and do ; 

For the years are oft-times squandered, gathering 
shells along the shore, 

While the ocean, undiscovered, lies in vastness just 
before. 



POEM> 327 

These our heroes, who thus early sleep beneath the 

silent sod, 
Have Hved longer, as I reckon the arithmetic of God, 
Than the selfish one, whose days have eked out life's 

extremest span, 
Yet who never was accounted, and who never was, 

a man. 

Do not mourn, O stricken widow ; do not mourn, be- 
reaved sire, 

For the loved one, swift-ascended, pure from the 
funereal pyre ; 

As these flowers to-day betoken, scattered o'er his 
lowly tomb. 

In the Paradisean gardens, evermore his soul shall 
bloom ! 

In the lapse of generations, we shall surely be forgot — 

But I teU you that our actions, good or ill, shall per- 
ish not. 

As the stone sunk in mid-ocean, sends a ripple to 
each shore, 

So each deed, once done, is making larger circles 
evermore ! 

In the Begistry of Heaven, every act is noted down. 
And for every cross we carry, there is treasured up 
a crown ; 



328 POEMS. 

And for every noble sacrifice is waiting a reward, 
And for each courageous soul, the benediction of 
its Lord. 

O ye shades of the departed ! if perchance ye hover 
near, 

Looking forth from yonder Heaven, our apostrophe 
to hear ; — 

Tarry not ; we bid ye rather to celestial bowers re- 
turn, 

While we only guard your ashes, safe in history's 
golden urn. 

Now from these sweet ceremonies, friends and com- 
rades, let us go. 

Somewhat wiser, somewhat better, and with hearts 
that overflow 

With a love, benign and catholic, whose promptings 
shall not cease 

Till we reach at last the Outposts, where the coun- 
tersign is " Peace ! " 

S. B. S. 



HYMN. 329 



HYMN, 

SUNG ON DECORATION DAY, AT BRIDGEPORT, CONN., 
MAY 30, 1869. 

Air — pletel's hymn. 

Sound the dirge, the requiem sing ; 
Floral wreaths and garlands bring ; 
Scatter roses o'er each grave. 
Where in glory sleep the brave. 

Passed away before life's noon, — 
"Who shall say they died too soon ? 
Ye who mourn, O, cease from tears. 
Deeds like theirs outlast the years. 

Crown the sod with beauteous wreath, 
While our heroes sleep beneath. 
Softly, sweetly, let them rest. 
With our benedictions blest. 

Let our voices hymn their praise, — 
Martyrs of illustrious days ; 
While their spirits hover near. 
Pleased our grateful song to hear. 



330 ^^^^'^• 

Lord of Hosts ! whose guardian care 
Both the dead and living share ; 
"When life's conflicts all are past, 
Bring us unto peace at last. 



S. B. S. 



POEM. 



POEM. 



331 



MEMORIAL DAY, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., MAY 30, 1870, AND 
AT STAMFORD, CONN., MAY 30, 1876. 

And now, my comrades, faithful still, again we wel- 
come here 

The saddest and the gladdest day of all the rolling 
year ; 

And come once more to decorate with sweet me- 
morial flowers, 

Tlie early graves, the honored graves, that haply 
had been ours. 

The grasses thicken o'er those graves : more thickly 

intertwined. 
The roots have grown above each form, the sacred 

sod to bind ; 
And so our common love hath grown a thing more 

hardly riven. 
And sturdier faith points upward to the heroes' rest 

in Heaven. 

On every hand, throughout the land, with measured 
tread, and slow, 

I seem to see our serried bands in sad procession 
go; 



332 POEMS. 

And jet, not sad ; they do but go to bid the roses 

bloom, 
And plant the flag for which he died, above the 

soldier's tomb. 

But grander army, statelier pomp, and spectacle 
more rare, 

"With sweeter strains than here awake the circum- 
ambient air — 

Procession of the memories — the muse would lead 
this hour, 

But words are base interpreters, and song hath lost 
its power. 

And yet, as one some tiny seed on eager soil might 

throw, 
Whence some rare plant should quick upspring, and 

into beauty grow ; 
E'en so, perchance, some words of mine, almost at 

random strown. 
In every soul may help beget a poem of its own. 

We say this is "Memorial Day;" 'twere but a lost 

day then. 
Did we discern or heed no more than gTeets the 

outward ken. 



POEM, 



333 



The scene may gratify the sense ; grand may the 

pageant be, 
But O, 'tis neither all nor what we long to feel and 

see ! 

Our unobtrusive place in life we each resign to-day, 
The while our thoughts take rapid wing, and beckon 

us away; 
Swift vehicles of memory are translating us afar. 
As once again we share the pomp and circumstance 

of war. 

Once more we wear the blue, and wield the musket 

or the blade ; 
Once more at morn, the mounting guard — at eve the 

dress-parade ; 
Once more the drill, the camp-routine, inspection 

and review, 
Once more, at break and close of day, reveille and 

tattoo. 

And yet once more we hail the call to gallant feats 

of arms. 
And gather the experience of battle's fierce alarms, 
And watch the war-cloud's awful frc^Ti, and hear 

the shrieking shell. 
And view once more the blood-stained fields, where 

cherished comrades fell. 



334 POEMS. 

Once more, sad little funerals are seen to wend their 
way, 

As one by one our martyr boys embrace their kin- 
dred clay ; 

Once more, by night, the bivouac beneath the starry 
dome, 

The silent prayer, the brief repose, the wistful 
dreams of home. 

O, tell me, in an hour like this, in what o'erwhelm- 

ing flood 
Do they not all return — those scenes of toil, and fire, 

and blood ! 
O, as we enter Memory's fane, and tread its echoing 

floors, 
What pictures line its walls ; what spectres haunt its 

corridors ! 

This day is theirs, and no less ours, who, from the 

hither shore 
Of that dark Stygian stream, beheld their spirits 

wafted o'er. 
The dead are with us ; we do feel their presence as 

a spell ; 
The memories we invoke are theirs, but yours and 

mine as well. 



POEM. 



335 



Nor theirs, nor ours alone, who did the brunt of 

battle bear, 
For in the rites we celebrate, yet other hearts must 

share. 
Ah ! not alone by those in martial panoply arrayed. 
Upon our country's altar were the sacrifices laid. 

The sire, who with his blessing bade his boy that 

last " good bye ;" 
The mother, who yearned after him, as he went forth, 

to die; 
The maid, who gave the honeyed kiss, as bravely 

from her side 
He hastened, who should ne'er return to claim her 

as his bride ; 

Or she, the mother of his babes, and partner of his life, 
Whose boon it was to bear for him the sacred name 

of wife; 
Who sadly — oh, how patiently ! — the weary months 

beguiled. 
And wears to-day the widow's weeds, and clasps the 

orphan child ; 

Have these no part in all the scene which greets the 

vision here? 
Shall we not hush while they bedew these garlands 

with a tear ? 



336 POEMS. 

Have they no dear-bought right, these sweet observ- 
ances to keep,— - 

O'er which, if there be tears in Heaven, the pious 
angels weep? 

Alas! dear friends, sad thoughts must come this 
hour to each and all ; 

Somehow on every heart and home, the shadows 
seem to fall : 

Each breast some missing idol shrines, we would no- 
wise disown. 

Nor with iconoclastic hand dissever from its 
throne. 

And yet, somewhat of pride, I ween, awakes in every 

heart, 
Which feels that in this mighty grief it justly claims 

a part. 
Some Spartan spirit yet inspires : some patriotic 

glow 
Still warms the stricken breast, and bids it bravely 

bear the blow. 

In years to come, as older grown, the orphan boy 

shall read. 
How in some grand, terrific hour, was wrought some 

matchless deed; 



POEM. 337 

O, what a flush of filial pride his radiant brow shall 

wear, 
If he can say to all the world ; " My father perished 

there ! " 

And JOM, my comrades, tell me now — how e'er your 
lines be cast, — 

As life is short, and you survey the record of your 
past ; — 

Say, is it not the darling thought in grateful mem- 
ory's store. 

In that our country's trying hour, the faithful part 
you bore ! 

'Tis seven brief years, almost Ihis hour, with some of 

you I stood 
Before Port Hudson, midst a sea of carnage and of 

blood. 
A chief rode down the shattered lines, and kindled 

every brow 
With these proud words : " Press on, my boys ; 

you're making history now! " 

Thank God ! that history hath been made ; and 

brighter yet shall shine. 
As consummating ages roll, on blazoned page and 

line ; 



338 POEMS. 

And mark in all the storied past, a most illustrious 

day, 
"Whose crescent influence shall be felt, when we have 

passed away. 

And now, dear friends, I know what fond emotions 
in each breast. 

At such a season still remain, voiceless and unex- 
pressed. 

Each heart in all this gathered throng goes some- 
where out alone. 

And seeks, beside some single grave, a treasure of 
its own. 

And here and there some noble deed, some few re- 
member well. 

Whose glory passed unheralded, and history shall 
not tell ; 

"Which, done by some pet general, had handed down 
his name 

To wondering posterities : so dear, so cheap is 
fame ! 

I mind me of a noble boy, whose mother's sad con- 
sent 

Enrolled him with the heroes of a gallant regi- 
ment ; 



P0E3L 



339 



Dark day for her, bright day to him, when that ca- 
reer began, — 

Sixteen years old, but every inch a soldier and a 
man ! 

There came the battle summons as in hospital he 

lay. 
Where yet the fever threatened to consume his life 

away ; 
The army moved ; the tidings reached the sick boy's 

ears anon ; — 
Straightway he rose : the dangerous way, alone, he 

followed on ! 

There came a call for volunteers, with musket and 

fascine, 
To first assault the hostile works, and fill the ditch 

between ; 
Whose courage in that solemn hour should stand the 

dreadful test ? 
The roll was quickly filled with names, — that boy's 

among the rest ! 

Next morn, awaiting hasty rites of sepulture, was 

laid 
A row of heroes — stark, cold forms — beneath the 

forest shada 



340 POEMS. 

Each rigid face looked heavenward with fixed and 

stony stare, 
And — saddest sight of all to me — the noble boy lay 

there ! 

The blanket in his knapsack found, his winding-sheet 

was made, 
And, all uncoffined, in the trench his mangled corpse 

was laid ; 
With reverent hands the clods above his lifeless 

form were pressed, 
And so, his work well done, the youthful warrior 

was at rest ! 

Above his dust the stranger treads to-day, and heed- 

eth not ; 
I know in all that lonely waste I could not find the 

spot ; 
Yet, unforgetful of the life that boy his country 

gave, 
I tell you, here and now I place a wreath upon his 

grave ! 

So, each and all, bring flowers, bring flowers, whose 
perfume shall arif=;e 

From graves of heroes near and far, to scent the very- 
skies. 



MT AMANUEXSIS. 341 

Where these our dead do live agam, and keep their 

blest abodes, 
And smiling Hebe serves for them the banquet of 

the gods. 

S. B. S. 



MY AMANUENSIS. 

INSCRIBED TO MISS LIZZIE HAND. 

A HANDSOME maiden here at my right hand, 
A sonnet for her album doth command. 
She's trebly handsome ; — for, you understand — 
She writes, and has, and is, a handsome Hand. 
To phrase it handsome ; — handsome little "Liz" 
Not only handsome does, but handsome is. 

S. B. S. 



342 POEMS. 



SUNKISE FEOM THE SIEEEAS. 

The gentle lustre of the morning star, — 

The sweet submission in its fading rays 
The rising radiance of the golden bar, 

The eastern sky in grayish fields displays : 
The leaping up from some great sea of fire, 

Of mighty lances of resistless light, — 
Betokening the Day-King's fierce desire, 

"With martial pomp to slay the hosts of night ! 

C. A. S. 



FAREWELL HYMN, 343 



FAEEWELL HYMN TO KEY. J. B. F- 



SUNG BY SUNDAY SCHOLARS, CHEIST CHURCH, BRIDGE- 
PORT, CONN., APRIL 17, 1870. 

Tune — SWEET hotje of pbatee. 

Farewell ! sad word repeated oft, 

As through life's pilgrimage we wend ; 
Farewell ! kind guardian of our souls, 

Beloved Pastor, guide and friend. 
Our infant voices gladly join 

In grateful blessings, ere we part ; 
And bid thee bear to other scenes, 

The thankful tribute of each heart. 

Thy faithful toil through all the years 

Here in thy Master's vineyard spent, 
This hour we linger to recall. 

With sad and glad emotions blent. 
And thou, where'er thy lot be cast. 

In sweet remembrances, we know 
This consecrated place shalt keep. 

And us, the friends of days ago. 

Farewell ! still in thy Lord's employ, 

Elsewhere his message mayst thou bring, 



344 POEMS. 

And other young disciples teach 

His grace to seek, His praise to sing. 

O blessed work, and workman blest ! 
We bid thee Godspeed on thy way ; 

Glad be thy harvest, late thy rest 
In realms of everlasting day ! 

And in that day, and in those realms, 

May we at last together meet ; 
And, at the shining throne of God, 

Pastor and flock, each other greet. 
There, as the endless ages roll, 

May we in radiant splendor shine 
Among the jewels — ransomed souls — 

That deck the crown that shall be thine. 

S. B. S. 



HYMN, 345 



HYMN. I 

SUNG AT DEDICATION OF JULIA SUMNER HALL, GREAT 



HARRINGTON, MASS., JUNE 28, 1871. 
Air — Gbeenyxlle. 

Now let gentle memory lead us, 

"Wliile this hour our thoughts recall 
Forms of loved ones who precede us 

Whither we are hastening all. 
"Weak we know our best endeavor, 

'Gainst the Lethean wave to strive, 
Still with human fondness ever. 

Would we keep our dead ahve. 

His behest this hour obeying. 

Who, for sake of memory dear. 
Crowned an earnest life, essaying 

These memorial walls to rear. 
Thus we gather, while we Hsten 

To familiar tones of yore, 
And while eyes in sadness glisten, 

Here to ghsten neveimore ! 

Side by side they now are sleeping, — 
Sire and daughter, in the tomb ; 

Kindred from afar stand weeping, 
And all hearts are filled with gloom : 



346 POEMS. 

She, in womanhood's first dawning, 
He, of ripe three score and ten. 

Both He waiting that bright morning, 
When God's own shall wake again. 

'Neath the flow'rets o'er them blooming — 

Summer's verdure, winter's snows — 
Only faith our souls illuming, 

"We must leave them in repose. 
So, wherever God shall call us, 

Wide world o'er, our lines to cast, 
And whatever fate befall us. 

Death shall claim us all at last ! 

Father, sister, our sad pleasure, 

With fraternal, filial care. 
This fair cenotaph to treasure, 

So its walls your names shall bear ; 
And when loved ones gone before us, 

Wave for us their welcome wands. 
Each and all, may God restore us. 

To the " House not made with hands ! " 

S. B. S. 



PBOLOGUK 347 



PKOLOGUE 

TO TABLEAU OF CAGLIOSTKO's MIRKOR, BEIDGEPORT, 
CONIT., OPERA HOUSE, DECEMBER, 1873. 

Kind friends, we bring jou, in a waif of rhjme, 
A curious story of the olden time. 

Know then, there Hved a hundred years ago. 
Where yet the Ai-no, and the Tiber flow, 
One Caghostro, by whose magic skill, 
Loved ones, and lost, were re-produced at will 
Upon his mirror ; which he did contrive. 
By sorcerer's art, to make the dead alive. 
Tradition adds : it pleased him to discover 
This power occult unto a sighing lover, — . 
Whose mistress, early snatched from his embrace, 
Among angehc beings had a place. 

So, one by one, within the magic glass, 
The youth beheld, m bright procession, pass 
Beings di^dne, recalled from their abodes 
In far-off regions, habited by gods. 
And, one by one, he saw, but to ignore, 
Until at last, the field of vision o'er 
A beauteous image moved ; and on him shone 
A rapturous glance, responsive to his own. 



348 POEMS. 

No more, can Heaven itself the maid retain, 
Whom Love, transcendent woos to earth asrain 1 
Mortal, but radiant with celestial charms, 
Once more she calls her idol to her arms! 

Enough : the story hath been briefly told, — 
What you have heard your eyes shall now behold 

S. B. S. 



POEM, 349 



POEM, 

BEAD AT THE OPENING OF THE BRIDGEPORT OPERA 
HOUSE, DECEMBER 26, 1870. 

One moment let the play abide ; for 'fcis not meet to 
liear 

A stranger voice first break the spell, and greet th' 
expectant ear. 

Would some more graceful song than mine, its 
message might indite, 

To bid ye welcome, each and all, this glad, auspi- 
cious night ! 

This night 'tis mine {o speak to you first words of 

joyous cheer. 
Within these walls, we trust shall stand thro' many a 

prosperous year. 
Almost we know, when he who built, and we and 

ours are not, 

This temple still shall crown its site, and beautify 
the spot. 

All men are builders ; in their day all men must 

builders be 
Of some creation, good or ill, their fellow-men may 

see, — 



350 POEMS, 

Of wood, or stone, or thought, or deed ;— some fabric 

they iQust give, 
To speak for them when passed away, and their own 

lives outhve. 

But, not to court didactic strain — I deem his fortune 

kind, 
Who, hence departing, haply leaves some monument 

behind. 
Built, not to crumble o'er his dust, apart from 

haunts of men. 
But to present him where he wrought, and living 

still as then. 

So I regard the rare old man, — our neighbor and 

our friend. 
Whose lot has been, amid these scenes, these fifty 

years to spend. 
And now on soil acquired by toil, in earlier, lustier 

days,— 
Postponer of a fruitful life, this cenotaph to raise. 

Events oft happen as we wend our way along time's 

shore, 
T\^iich bid us pause, and look behind, and round us, 

and before ; 



POEM. 351 

And so, this night, we can but Hst to voices of the 

past, 
And scan the present, while we strive the future to 

forecast. 

So, with our aged friend, we take the wings of mem- 

And almost from its birth o'erlook this nineteenth 

century ; 
Behold the quiet ba}^ where here and there the sail 

boats ghde, 
While peacefully the hamlet sleeps, the watery waste 

beside. 

But less remote, the scene is changed, and now the 

busthng town, 
"With marts of trade and numerous spires appears, 

the slope to cro^Ti. 
On the horizon, far away, the eye discerns a 

speck ; — 
It nears ; the Nimrod ! and we see John Brooks upon 

the deck ! 

Again the panorama shifts; a city greets our 

ken. 
With freighted vessels at her wharves, and streets 

alive with men. 



352 POEMS. 

And now we hear the engine's shriek, along Pequon- 
nock's shore : — 

George Griswolcl blows the stage-horn at the Frank- 
lin House no more ! 

One step — a lapse of twenty years — and now, upon 

the green, 
The massive halls of justice rise benignant o'er the 

scene ; 
Excited suitors help to swell the bustle and the 

din. 
And — sure sign of prosperity — how lawyers do flock 

in! 

Nearer we come, apace with time, until, on every 

hand. 
The palaces of industry — the mammoth workshops 

stand ; 
A busier aspect everywhere distinguishes the 

scenery, 
'Mid rush and ring and roll and roar and rumble of 

machinery ! 

And meanwhile, — we begin to note, — arise on every 

side. 
Abodes of wealth and luxury, magnificence and 

pride ; 



POEM. 353 

And, better still, abodes we see, whose plain exterior 

tells 
Where modest means keep " home, sweet home," and 

frugal comfort dwells. 

The school-house rears a loftier front ; the church 

more grandly towers ; 
(I say my prayers at old St. Johns ; — of course I 

don't mean ours.) 
The Library out-grows its shell ; the city hall looks 

gayer, 
It's " some" to be a councilman ; it's famous to be 

mayor ! 

Esthetic taste is manifest ; the city's pride and 
boast 

Are centred in the loveliest park on all New Eng- 
land's coast. 

Kind charity opes wide her doors ; the orphan need 
not roam, 

Nor widow weep : here each may find a haven and a 
home. 

The alms-house wears a winsome look ; and often- 
times, when floored 
By impecuniosity, I'm wondering how they board — 



354 POEMS. 

Nay more, 'tis pleasant to reflect, when all resources 

fail, 
And worse grows worst ; one refuge still — a most de- 

liglitful jail ! 

The city borders widen out, and every truant son 

Who souglit a Fairfield fur his home — we cap- 
tured eveiy one! 

Our Black Rock neighbors deemed it first a chasten- 
ing from the Lord ; 

They've now some sixteen candidates for Alderman, 
First Ward!^ 

Across the harbor, hope deferred long saw an un- 
couth ridge ; 

But now it bears symmetric shape, and Bridgeport 
boasts a bridge. 

Right glad the muse records its birth, and gives it 
place in rhyme ; 

Long may it stand, and long defy old Ocean and 
old Time! 

Now, shall we lift the envious veil wherethro' we 

dimly see. 
And in our fancy, picture forth the city that shall be, 

♦Allusion to annexation of a part of Fairfield to Bridgeport. 



POEM, 355 

"When fifty superadded years shall shed their leaves 

and snows, 
Still making the waste place rejoice, and blossom as 

the rose? 

"Well may we hope, that long as Peace shall hold 

her gladsome reign. 
And Industry her hosts deploy throughout her vast 

domain. 
This busy port, so close beside the gateway of the 

world. 
May write " Excelsior " on its flag, and keep its folds 

unfurled. 

Meanwhile, as other structures rear their walls on 
every hand. 

This edifice, unspoiled of time, and beauteous still, 
shall stand. 

Tradition says, its site was once the dowry of a 
bride. 

We prize it as the builder's gift to us, this festal- 
tide. 

Here, many and many a year, as generations come 
and go. 

Science and art shall prophecy, and wit and wis- 
dom flow ; 



356 POEMS. 

Here eloquence shall charm the ear, and melody 

outpoui*, 
While roll the seasons, and when we shall tread 

life's stage no more. 

For so we go ; our life is all a drama and a dream — 
The muse would gladly linger still to dwell upon the 

theme. 
I crave your pardon ; you shall see blithe Ida Yernon 

soon; 
Years gone, 'twas my delight to hear her play " The 

Honeymoon!" 

And now — interpreter between recipients and giver — 
For him, — long life and walk serene, this side of 

Jordan's river ; 
For you; — with patriarchal love, he greets your 

presence here. 

And bids you " Merry Christmas," and a " Happy, 

Glad New Year !"^- 

S. B. S. 



* The Opera House was erected by the venerable Lewis C. 
Segee, present on the occasion, but since deceased. 




I HOPE TO HEAE SPEEDILY FROM YOU, AFTER WHAT 
I TRUST WILL BE A PROSPEROUS VOYAGE TO 
AND SAFE ARRIVAL IN AMERICA." 



^^^i^^^ 1 i-vA.^^ 



m MEMORIAM. 357 

IN MEMOEIAM.^ 

O PRICELESS hours were thine and mine. 
Dear Brother ! in that far off land, 
Where last, together, hand in hand, 
We stood beside the banks of Khine. 

Together, through the storied halls 
Wliere Art its lavish treasures brings ; 
Amidst the homes and tombs of kings ; 
Within renowned Cathedral walls. 

We strayed ; until where, grim and hoar, 
Old Heidelberg its tale repeats, 
And Neckar aye his Brother meets, 
We parted, who should meet no more. 

I know it now, how I did yearn 

From those loved scenes to bid thee come ; 

And o'er wide ocean bring thee home. 

Nor speak " Farewell," but plead " Eeturn !" 

'Twas all imselfish ; for methought 

How unto gentle studies wed. 

And how by fine ambition led. 

Thou would'st not leave thy work unwrought. 



* Perished at the wreck of steamship Atlantic, off Halifax, 
April 1st, 1873, Albert Increase Sumner. 



358 POEMS. 

So, tarrying in that glorious land, — 
Where heavenly music seems foretold. 
And pours its floods o'er shrines of gold, 
I gave to thee the parting hand. 

Since then, with fond fraternal care, — 
Expectant of bright days to come, 
A throne within my own dear home, — 
I've kept for thee the waiting chair. 

Within Westminster's gorgeous Urn, 
Last litany thou didst repeat ; 
Then swift foreran the message sweet, — . 
The harbinger of glad return. 



Now in famihar Minster walls 
The Organ waits thy wizard hands, 
And tuneful choir, thy skilled commands 
To hail the Easter festivals * 



My God ! as thunderbolt the shock ! 
Too well I knew that gentle form 
Could ne'er withstand the furious storm. 
The frenzied wave, the heartless rock. 



* Albert was returning from Europe, to fill an engagement aa 
organist in St. John's Church, Bridgeport, Conn. 



IN MEMORIAM. 359 

I madly cried : " Can God be good, 
And grudge that little meed of care 
From His Omnipotence ; nor spare 
My darling from the dastard flood? 

And He who walked the billoTvy sea 
Aforetime ; and, with shining hand 
Did wave majestical command, 
And whisper * Peace ' on Galilee ; — 

Could He not, with benignant arm, 
Uplift from out that yawning grave 
One more — ^just one — and pitying save 
That tender, harmless bov from harm ? '* 



'Tis past, and I am calmer now. 
As here, upon this moaning shore, 
He Ues so still ; and bending o'er, 
I note such calmness on his brow, . 

And, in that better " Fatherland," 
Faith pictures Albert, disenthralled ; — 
Among the heavenly choirs installed ; — 
An angel's harp is in his hand ! 

S. B. S, 

Halifax, N. S., April 7, 1873. 



360 POEMS, 



THE DIAL. 

"We separate ; the girls and boys divide — 
Eacli to a place distinct, or quite alone ; 

Oiir ruthless passions 'neath the altar hide 
The sacrifices, till the hours are flown. 

We hear by chance, in a far distant land, 

That John and Mary have long since been wed ; 

The babes we left, at manhood's portals stand, 
And ah, God help us ! some sweet friends are dead. 

Then comes a flood of unrestrained grief ; 

Upon our past, our common hours, we dwell. 
Our retrospect is cheated of relief. 

Remorse encircles like the flames of hell. 

But Heaven will help us ; as we meditate. 
One star sheds comfort, and our pangs abate. 

C. A. S. 



LINES, 361 



LINES, 

BEAD AT A DINNER OF FAIEFIELD COUNTY BAE, CON- 
NECTICUT, GIVEN TO CHIEF JUDGE ORIGEN S. SEY- 
MOUR, FEBRUARY, 1874.^ 

[Judge Brewster, of the Court of Common Pleas, was called on 
to respond to the toast '^ Courts of Limited Jurisdiction ;" hnt he 
said Judge Sumner presided over a court of still more limited 
jurisdiction than his own, though it is one which Sumner claims 
is the court of last resort ; whereupon Judge Sumner responded 
as follows : — Bridgeport Standard.'\ 

I KNEW, I knew these lively chaps would stop at 

nothing short 
Of seeking, in this dreadful strife, the court of last 

resort ; — 
In other words, the court that waits the drainage of 

life's cup. 
And then inquires, for all his pranks, how much the 

man " cuts up." 

* This dinner was tendered to Chief Justice Seymour on his re- 
tirement from the Bench, — he having reached the age of seventy- 
years, which — very absurdly — disqualifies one from holding ju- 
dicial office in Connecticut. The Court being in session, all the 
judges were present, and speeches were made by the succeeding 
Chief Justice, Hon. John D. Park ; Ex-U. S. Vice-President, La- 
fayette S. Foster ; Judge Woodruff, of the U.S. Circuit Court ; 
Governor Charles E. IngersoU ; Hon. G. H. Hollister ; Col. Nel- 
son L. White, State Attorney, and many others. Hon.J.C. 



362 POEMS. 

I tell you, when you probe the Court of Probate, 

you shall find, 
In consequence of consequence, it isn't far behind. 
It wants a man of parts, be sure, to understand the 

rules, 
To care for all the widows, and the infants, and the 

fools. 

I magnify my office, then, as everybody should, — 

And say that, in a quiet way, I'm doing heaps of good. 

It's all the speech I'll make for my constituents' dis- 
section ; 

You see it's only two months hence, there'll be a 
new election. 

But this is neither here nor there ; I chiefly rose to say 

How pleased I am to meet our proud Fraternity to- 
day. 

And help entwine a graceful wreath around his hon- 
ored brow. 

Who, having fought a noble fight, puts off his armor 
now. 



Loomis presided, and made the intreductory speecli . At a subse- 
quent meeting of the Fairfield County Bar, a committee was ap- 
pointed to publish all the proceedings in a permanent form ; but 
as the committee (of which the author of these lines was a mem- 
ber) has never done its duty, these remarks will not be deem- 
ed out of place. 



LINES. 363 

Thrice blest the man who, counting up his three 
score years and ten, 

Presents a model in himseK, unto his fellow men ; 

And in the plenitude of all his varied, ripened pow- 
ers, 

Beholds a gladsome retrospect of unneglected hours ; 

And, gazing forward, can discern a pleasant pilgrim- 
age 

Ado-^Ti the smooth dechvities of a serene old age ; 

Assured that, when his day is done, he shall but 
sink to rest, 

As summer sun, ^\dtli all his radiant banners, in the 
west. 

E'en such the man, whose patriarchal presence here 
we greet. 

As round the festive board to-night, his fond disci- 
ples meet. 

To here pronounce o'er him our benedictive word 
" well done ! " 

And for ourselves uplift the prayer, " God bless us, 
every one ! " 

Let wiseacres and shallow fools deny the truth who 
can, 

The thorough lawyer can but be, and is, the tho- 
rough man. 



364 POEMS. 

"What cultured gifts must all combine, and in his 
being blend, 

Not all mankind, I ween, are fit to gauge or compre- 
hend. 

What arduous toil, what anxious care ; how rigorous 

the school 
Wherein our jealous mistress holds us subject to her 

rule, 
Is ours, who strive our best within this sphere of life 

to go. 
Let those, and those alone, recount, who best can 

feel and laiow. 

I've made a brief upon this point ; and from statis- 
tics, say — 

The lawyers, of professionals, do most for smallest 
pay. 

The average lawyer — overhaul the record, and be 
sure — 

Works always hard, — ^lives pretty well, — and goes to 
Heaven, poor. 

And yet we lead a pleasant life ; the company is 
good. 

And gentle fellowship obtains within our brother- 
hood. 



LINES. 365 

Exceptions but confirm the rule ; and, take us all 

together, 
A nobler band, I dare declare, were never bound by 

tether. 

And all the world, whate'er it says, respects the le- 
gal calling. 

And must confess, that but for us, its state would be 
appalling ; 

The very man who finds in our pursuit the biggest 
flaw. 

If he can boast a boy with brains, -^dll have him 
study law ! 

My time is up, — a health to all ; and unto him ere- 

while 
Our honored chief ; who now returns to join the rank 

and file, — 
Long Hf e ; — and when in heavenly courts he stands at 

last, be then 

His children's children's proudest boast — illustrious 

Origen ! 

S.B. S. 



366 POEMS. 

POEM, 

READ AT A DINNEE GIVEN TO P. T. BARNUM, AT ATLANTIC 
HOTEL, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., 1874. 

I'm no pianist ; ne'ertheless a psean I must sing 
This night in honor of our guest, the famous Money 

King; 
The man who keeps informing us that poverty's a 

blunder, 
And rolls up wealth before our eyes, while we look 

on and wonder. 

If Alfred Mantalini could have chanced this man 

to see. 
His first ejaculation must have been, as you'll agree, 
" Of all demnition wonderments that swell his fame 

and pelf. 
There never was a demnder one than Barnum is, 

himself!" 

There*s no such thing as ciphering the gauge of such 

a man; 
To-day its business in New York — to-morrow in 

Japan : 
One day beneath the sea, to find some learned, lovely 

shark, — 
The next, way off, on Ararat, for pieces of the Ark I 



POEM, 367 1 

Sometimes lie calls for quarter, with the giant Fe- 

Fo-Fum ; ' 

And then again he captures us with General Tom . 
Thumb; | 

One day in Bridgeport, staking out new streets across j 
his farm, 

The next, in Windsor Castle^ with Victoria on his arm. 

One day upon the prames, looking out for freaks of ' 

nature ; J 

The next, in Hartford, speech-making before the ^ 

legislature ; j 

One day, the Bearded Woman ; next, the Mermaid i 

with her comb ; 

And now, the Hippopotamus, and now, the Hippo- ] 

drome. j 

To-day, recalling from the deep, oblivious shades of 

death. 
And so, rejuvenating and rejoicing old Joyce Heth ; • 

To-morrow, showing all at once, the wondrous twins : 

of Siam, 
And Julius Caesar's boxing-gloves, and fish-pole used j 

by Priam. 

One day, the fiery element his big Museum slashes. 

But next day, lo ! it rises as a Phoenix from its ashes ; | 



368 POEMS. 

And while the croakers shake their heads, and dubi- 
ously figure, 

The Crocodile gives broader smile, — the show keeps 
growing bigger! 

I never, nevek, saw his like ; and so I might as well 
Give o'er at once the vain attempt all his exploits to 

tell; 
It's all recorded — read of all — on everybody's 

shelf ; 

" Biogi-aphy of P. T. Barnum, written by him- 
self." 

There's not a journal round the world, whose col- 
umns haven't known him ; 

Nor board-fence, on whose superfice, bill-posters 
haven't shown him. 

No savage or philosopher ; no Gentile, Greek or 
Eoman, 

But knows of this ubiquitous, inevitable showman. 

But " showman " though he style himself, we know 

the word but tells 
A vulgar fraction of what force within his manhood 

dwells. 
An orator of wide repute, a poet and a preacher, 
An author and an editor ; a student a,nd a teacher ; 



FOEM. 359 

A wit, of never failing fund within his storehouse 
ample ; 

Of Temperance, ahke renowned Apostle and ex- 
ample ; 

Philanthropist, with human kind, not merely sym- 
pathetic, 

But generous and bountiful, and grandly ener- 
getic ; 

And last— by no means least— of all ; — and that is 

why we come 
Thus heartily to welcome him — a lover of his 

home; 
A home that proudly crowns to-day a whilom barren 

waste, — 
The triumph and the marvel now of fine gesthetic 

taste. 

But prouder monument for him ; within the city's 

bound. 
Full many a score of happy habitations may be 

found. 
Whose owners will not soon forget the prudent head 

that planned 
The homes they ne'er had builded, but for Barnum's 

helping hand ! 



370 POEMS. 

Ob ! when tlie leaf of human life is turning sere and 

yellow. 
One's best reflection can but be, that he has served 

his fellow. 
How many a man had been a wreck, whose fate had 

quite undone him, 
If Barnum hadn't raised, and put wheels under him, 

and " run " him ! 

Now if our fellow-citizen had been a sordid 

hunks, 
Who hoarded all his treasures in old stockings, and 

in trunks, 
We simply should have set him down a flinty-hearted 

sinner, 
Instead of voting him a " brick " and complimental 

dinner. 

And so we wish it understood, and thoroughly in- 
ferred ; — 

These testimonials of esteem — we mean them, every 
word. 

We toast not wealth, nor simply brains ; but, as we 
proudly can, — 

The qualities that always make the hero and the 
man. 



POEM. 371 

Long life and health to him and his, to do and 

gather good ; 
And when at last he shall be called to cross the 

Stygian flood, 
Surviving friends with tearful eyes, beholduig him 

embark, 
Shall place his statue, I predict, within the Seaside 

Park ; 

And every boy who looks thereon, the record shall 

review. 
And learn what steady Yankee pluck and industry 

can do ; 
And as our city grows apace, an ever crescent 

fame. 
As halo, shall surround her pristine Benefactor's 

name. 

And meanwhile, he'll be ransacking the Universe 

for " stars," 
And lay a cable through the air from Jupiter to 

Mars, 
And institute a comet-race, on some tremendous 

wager. 
And cage up Taurus, Scorpio, the Whale, and Ursa 

Major ; 



372 POEMS. 

And hire the Twins — oh Gemini ! — to manage a 

balloon, 
And make an exliibition of the old man in the 

moon ; 
And in the vast arena, pit the Siclde of the Lion 
Against the vaunted sword and belt of arrogant 

Orion ; 

And, finally, discovering the brink of Hades' crater, 

Put out the conflagration with his Fire Annihilator ; 

Exorcise from the neighborhood, the " cussed " imps 
of evil. 

Nor rest, till he has raised, reformed, and then — en- 
gaged — the Devil ! 

S. B. S. 



MARTYRDOM IN THE TEMPLK 373 

MAKTYKDOM IN THE TEMPLE. 

A BEBKSHIBE BALLAD. 

It was the town of Otis, — 

It was a Sabbath day, 
To which I call your notice 

In sympathetic way. 

An August sun was shining. 

In temper most intense ; 
The clock was near defining 

When service should commence. 

At chapel we were greeted, — 

My Brother Sam and I, — 
With courtesies, and seated 

Conspicuously high. 

A stall-pew on the bow aisle, 

Assigned to us alone. 
Presented us in profile, 
As victims on a throne ! 

For every waiting creature, 

Who knew the native sire,* 
On each resembhng feature 

Must searchingly inquire. 

* Our father, Increase Sumner, was a native of Otis. 



374 POEMS. 

With painfullest reflection, 
Concerning how and why 

"VVe were on this inspection, 
Sat Brother Sam and I. 

With Corsican refinement 

Of mutual sense of woe, 
We kept up our ahgnment, — 

Well, how I do not know. 

But there, our fate bemoaning, 

We silently implored 
The help the Rector's coming 

Would naturally afford. 

And when the aggregation 
Of thoughts we must defy 

Suggested suffocation, 
Or some explosive cry ; — 

Bight then, when for the Bector 

We could have jumped and cheered, 

At fartherest door a spectre 
Obtrusively appeared ! 

Forthwith our whole attention 
Was conquered and converged : 

The act of apprehension 
Foregoing fears submerged. 



MARTTBDOM IN THE TEMPLK 375 

A tall and slender woman ; 

Not less than seventy-five ; 
Who looked just less than human, 

And scarcely more 'n alive. 

She was so slim and bony ; 

The blood so spare in her ! 
A true synchronous crony 

For the ancient mariner. 

Her bodice had descended 

From portraits of Queen Bess ; 

But many fashions blended 
Throughout her satin dress. 

A reticule of netting 

Was dangling from her waist ; 
A brooch of oroide setting 

Eesplendent gleamed with paste. 

A climbing ivory jocko 

Adorned the shade she lugged ; 
And, bound in red morocco, 

A prayer-book huge she hugged. 

In color of the carrot, 

Her ringlets were aflame ; 
In pattern of the parrot, 

Her nose was much the same. 



376 POEMS. 

Her eyes were fierce reminders 
Of sprite and goblin dreams ; 

Her glasses, flanked by blinders, 
"Were cased in tortoise beams. 

But speech seems disappearing. 
And memory shrinks with dread, 

"When I approach the gearing 
She wore upon her head. 

It was a close-thatched lean-to ; 

It was a prompter's lair ; 
It was a sounding screen to 

An olden bishop's chair. 

It was a miller's crater ; 

It was a tavern shed ; 
It was a radiator 

For gas-lights overhead. 

It was a Leghorn tunnel, 

Resembling in degree. 
The ventilating funnel 

Of steamships of the sea. 

The trimmings on a fraction 
Of that stupendous plan, 

"Were fit to cause distraction 
In simple-minded man. 



MARTYRDOM IN TEE TEMPLE. 377 

Across the skull-close bonnet, 

And slightly up the grade, 
With spangled gauze upon it, 

Were knots of crimson braid. 

Between these cones upspringing, 
Were gi^asses, leaves and stalks ; 

Two blue-jays, couched for singing, 
Surmounted hollyhocks. 

It was a dreadful vision ; — 

Flashed on us all in all, 
With that acute precision 

Most Kkely to appall. 

She paused a moment, — blocking 

That narrow doorway ; then 
Recovered from the shocking. 

Our woe began again. 

She turned her awful awnino- 

at 

As she advanced apace, 
And caught us without warning, 
And held us, — face to face. 

And drawing near the pulpit, 

Her calcium hghts were seen i 

To blaze on either culprit 

In incandescence keen ! 



378 POEMS. 

And when in act of kneeling, 
Slie still maintained her glare, 

We trembled ; and the feeling 
Was not akin to prayer. 

And when the verse for quiet 
Was solemnly intoned, 

"Please read the act for riot ! " 
My brother faintly groaned. 

The fire of our affliction 

Abated not a jot ; 
From psalm to benediction 

'T was more intensely hot. 

Full oft a spell mesmeric 
Was fastened on us twain, 

Till on the brink hysteric 
I caught my reeling brain. 

By reverent recitation. 
By vaulting tricks of thought, 

By back enumeration, 
DeHvery was sought. 

Perhaps the earnest struggle 
Had braved the general stare ;- 

But sacred plea, nor juggle, 
Obscured her anywhere. 



MARTYRDOM IN THE TEMPLE, 379 

Call this a profanation, — 

A mockery and a sin ? 
Eetributiye temptation 

In God's house will begin ! 

Why ended not that session 

In ignominious race, 
Requires a deep confession 

Of mystery and grace. 

Who e'er in judgment sitteth ; 

How far excused or blamed : — 
" Survival of the fittest," 

May reasonably be claimed. 

C. A. S. 



380 POEMS. 



MY BEOTHEE'S EING. 

It glistens not with ruby, 
Nor flaunts the diamond's glare, 
Nor emerald nor sapphire 
Bedecks the ring I wear. 
Of simple gold 'tis fashioned, 
And on its sable seal, 
The family initial 
Is all it doth reveal. 

Yet not a gem that sparkles 
Afar on India's strand, 
Or blazes on imperial brow, 
Or proudly sceptered hand, 
So precious a memento. 
So priceless boon could be, 
As you shall know, but listen. 
This bauble is to me. 

Within the Palais Eoyal, — 
For seeming miles ablaze, 
As fabulous Aladdin's 
To court the 'wildered gaze, — 
He told us he had bought it, 
"With reverent desire. 



3£Y BROTHER'S RING. 381 

To wear it as a token 
In memory of his sire. 

And so he kept and wore it ; 
I saw it on him last, 
As o'er the keys of melody 
His fingers deftly passed. 
As rolled the swelling volume 
Of sound, my eyes grew dim ; 
I wept to see the signet, 
But not — not then — for him ! 

Alas ! within a twelve-month, 
On that disastrous shore, 
"Whose very rocks are shedding 
Then- tears forevermore. 
Brave ship and base commander 
Bushed fearfully awreck. 
And fearfully and wildly 
Bushed hundreds to the deck ! 

And shivering and shuddering. 
In darkness, cold and storm. 
Amid that doomed assemblage 
There stood our poor boy's form ; 
And as he leaped in horror 
And vain hope to withstand 



382 POEMS. 

The mocking waves that clasped him, 
This ring was on his hand ! 

Far down within the caverns, — 
Drear tenements of death, — 
To note the last pulsation, 
The last expuing breath ; — 
Forever mute, mute witness ! 
Thou knowest, but dost spare 
Those tales — hads't thou but language- 
Of heart-break and despair ! 

Eude hands from out those caverns, 
The precious corse upbore, 
And tenderly disposed it 
Upon the pitying shore. 
Kind strangers and survivors 
Saved all for us with care ; — 
All, all they could — his body, 
This ring ; a lock of hair ! 

The months have flown and vanished. 
And in the haunts of men 
I move, and ofttimes gaily 
Discourse with tongue or pen ; 
But sadness, like a shadow, 
In night-watch and alone. 



MY BROTHERS RING. 333 

Unceasingly steals o'er me, 
And claims me for its own, — 

And sometimes, as, abstracted, 
I gaze upon this ring, 
The home of childhood re-appears, 
The scenes of life's bright spring : — 
Sire, mother, sisters, brothers. 
Gone hence beyond the sky ; — 
I feel we all must meet again, 
I almost long to die. 

It ghstens not with ruby, 

Nor flaunts the diamond's glare. 

Nor emerald nor sapphire 

Bedecks the ring I wear ; 

Yet naught so dear memento, 

So priceless boon could be. 

As this sad tale hath told you 

This bauble is to me. 

S. B. S. 



384 POEMS. 

POEM, 

DELIVERED AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF ST. GEORGE'S 
SOCIETY, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., APRIL 22d, 1875. 

Now I'm a Yankee, bom and bred, as any one may 

guess. 
Who gives a moment's heed to what my Hps and 

looks express ; 
But every Johnny Bull I hail as cousin — nay, as 

brother, 
And while Columbia calls me "son," Britannia's 

my mother ! 

Indeed it makes one smile to think how races sub- 
divide. 

And seek their ancient individualities to hide ; 

As if a hundred years or two could so outspread 
the tree. 

The branches couldn't find the root, or trace their 
pedigree ! 

Each son of these bom Englishmen, Hke son of 
mine, must be 

A genuine American ; it can't be helped you see ; 

But each and all, — we still may trace the same his- 
toric line ; 

Eecall the days of " auld " — and not so very " auld 
— ^lang syne." 



POEM. 385 

And "EngHsh," "Teuton," "Scot," or "Celt," or 

" Yankee " — what's a name ! 
A bridge across the paltry years, and we are all the 

same. 
And here, according naught but love to Kaiser or 

to Queen, 
We work new problems, whose results are with the 

Great Unseen. 

So, starting with our brotherhood, I think we can 



To quaff the cup of fondness for the Isle across the sea ; 

The Isle, whereto, where'er the fifth of all Earth's 
peoples roam, 

With faithful love their hearts revert, as their an- 
cestral home. 

The very " hub " of all the earth ; commanding, as 
of course. 

Centripetal, centrifugal, and every other force ; 

" Whose morning drum-beat, — comrade of the troop- 
ing hours and sun, — 

Sounds one reveille round the world, until the day 
is done ! " 

A mound upon the globe's expanse, which other- 
wheres upsprung. 

Might simply have supported wives and saints for 
Brigham Young ; 



386 POEMS. 

But as the wondering Frenchman cried, its potency 

to see, — 
" Zat leetle patch of earth is one vast meeracle to 

me!" 

As empires of the Orient, her history fades away, 
Far back among traditions of a half-forgotten day ; 
And when the Sphynx itseK its hidden story shall 

unfold. 
Then, only then, the origin of Stonehenge shall be 

told! 

What armies, from great Caesar's time, with awful 
tread have trod 

Athwart her soil, and fought above, and slept be- 
neath her sod ; 

What navies, charged with thunderbolts from out 
her flaming forge. 

Have borne, transcendent, round the world, the ban- 
ner of St. George ! 

What Art and Science in her halls have found aus- 
picious birth. 

To educate, to civilize,. and gladden all the earth; 

What speech hath made her forums thrill ; what 
bards sublime have sung 

Immortal measures to embalm for aye her classic 
tongue I 



POEM. 387 

What monuments on every hand record historic 

things ; — 
Cathedrals, builded to enshriue sarcophagi of 

Kings; 
Tombs, so renowned, that in their midst, in royal 

state to lie, 
What Albion's son, but craves the boon deserviugly 

to die! 

And statues, that commemorate their ever deathless 

dead. 
And castles hoar, with amaranthine memories o'er- 

spread. 
And palaces, within whose courts earth's noblest 

ones have stood. 
And towers, whose moated battlements have soaked 

heroic blood ! 

But no effete, decaying realm evokes our laudful 
song; 

Within her bounds to-day, what homes of wealth, 

of comfort, throng ; 
What industry, what enterprise, throughout her 

pent confine, 
Hold sovereign reign, from Isle of Wight to New- 

castie-on-Tyne ! 



388 POEMS. 

What commerce, at her teeming ports, awaits each 

fav'ring gale, 
What network o'er her fair expanse, of highway and 

of rail ; 
What bustling cities everywhere ; and then, — the 

whole to crown, — 
Immense, imcomprehensible, bewildering London 

town ! 

O, whoso in a single glance, and in a breath of 

time. 
Would gaze on stores consolidate of every land and 

clime. 
And note a thousand things, his every school-boy 

book recalls, — 
Ascend the dome, and reach with me the summit of 

Saint Paul's ! 

There, rolls beneath, the teeming Thames, by mighty 

bridges spanned, 
And Ludgate slopes to Temple Bar, and Fleet street 

and the Strand — 
And just beyond is Charing Cross, from out whose 

station run 
Incessant locomotive trains, like missiles from a 

gun. 



POEM, 389 

Beyond, the halls of Parliament and Westminster 
you see. 

There's St. James Palace, Buckingham, and Marl- 
borough, all three. 

This way, Trafalgar Square, and Nelson's Monument 
you know ; 

There's PicadHly; there's Hyde Park; Pall-mall 
and Eotten Eow. 

Come back by way of Oxford street, past Lincoln's, 

and Gray's Inn ; 
Again you near the " City," and you catch the roar 

and din; 
While now and then, above it all, mellifluously 

swells 
The tocsin of the Cockney's soul — sweet, musical 

Bow-Bells! 

Past Cheapside, stands the Bank, whose notes do 

not behe their worth. 
But speak for English gold in every corner of the 

earth. 
Hard by, Lord Mayor's Mansion House ; and in 

the Mart between, 
The L:on Duke on Lron Horse, o'erlooks the 

whirHng scene. 



390 POEMS. 

And here, Cornhill, Threadneedle and King "William 

streets converge ; 
Innumerable multitudes, like waves and billows 

surge; 
And rampant men and rampant steeds contend with 

mad uproar. 
And thunder over London Bridge, and all along the 

shore. 

And farther east — O let us pause with vision rapt 

awhile ! — 
In seeming isolation there, looms up that sombre 

pile,— 
Long time the seat of kingly pride, and kingly lust 

and power — 
It stands, — ^with walls whose very stones do seem to 

speak, — the Tower ! 

And now, one glance on Surry side, vast workshops 

to behold — 
Whose myriad chimneys belch T;heir flames, and 

smoky clouds unfold; 
While Crystal Sydenham illumes the far horizon's 

crest, — 
Besplendent Diamond, blazing there, on Albion's 

buxom breast ! 



POEK 3gi 

There ! that will do ; and now, my boys, I'll take my 

seat and hat. 
To sing aU night, I couldn't turn a neater verse than 

that ; — 
Shake hands aU round ! brmg cakes and ale ; this 

once, ourselves we'll gorge. 
And give the tankard one long pull, for England, and 

St. George I 

S. B. S. 



392 POEMS. 

LINES, 

READ AT EE-UNION OF CONNECTICUT VETEBANS, AT 
HARTFOED, CONN., 1875. 

I KNOW precisely what you want : you thought 

't would do for me, — 
As being what we lawyers call, a sort of an " ex re," 
To hold position, by brevet, in this association. 
And so contribute to the flow of mutual admiration. 

I'll do it ! from my childhood's hour — I mean since 
I was fledged. 

And hung my hopeful shingle out, seductively gilt- 
edged — 

I've always said " give me, beneath the aegis of our 
laws, 

A first-class chent, one strong fact, and I'll insure 
the cause ! " 

So, hailing from the old Bay State — God bless her, 
there she stands ! 

I clasp with unfeigned pride to-day, adopted broth- 
ers' hands ; 

And fain, from out these flowers of hope and memo- 
ry that throng, 

Would weave, so you might bear it hence, a fragrant 
wreath of song. 



LINES, 393 

But where, in all the blooming fields of your illus- 
trious story, 

Shall I cull out, most redolent, the roses of your 
glory ? 

I read the faithful record o'er with wonder and 
amaze. 

Of this one little plucky State in those eventful days. 

I read the roll of martyred dead ; and in the fore- 
most van, 

Behold one, who so early gave " assurance of a man," 

Chivalric Ellsworth ! o'er whose corse, with new 
resolve ujDrose 

The warrior legions of the North, to smite the na- 
tion's foes. 

And I behold, in retrospect, another manly form, 
Which, all too soon, fell prone beneath the battle's 

angry storm ; 
The gentle scholar, born to tread serener paths to 

fame ; — 
But brighter halo than he dreamed encircles "WiN- 

THEOp's name. 

One foremost martyr still, our verse may not this 
hour forget ; 

Whose life-sun, like a meteor fall'n, in sudden splen- 
dor set ; — 



394 POEMS, 

Of simon-pure Colonial stock, the briglit, consum- 

matic scion, — 
O, favored Commonwealth, that shrines his dust — 

heroic Lyon ! 

To Sedgwick, Foote, and all the rest, whose names 
to ns belong, — 

Whose lengthened roll transcends by far the limits 
of our song, — 

Not unremembered, do our hearts go proudly foiih 
to-day. 

And yield their throbbing benisons above their hal- 
lowed clay. 

Go now with me, where'er the shock of battle rends 

the air ; 
Aloft, defiant, you shall see the tri-vined banner 

there ; 
The first unfurled at New Orleans, and waving in 

the blast 
Its saucy folds at Bull Eun, o'er the first gun and 

the last ! 

The first on Mississippi's soil ; the first to kiss the 
breeze 

Beneath the "sacred shadows" of the staid pal- 
metto trees ; 



LINES. 395 

Among the first to cross Long Bridge ; where, — al- 
most terror dumb, — 

The gentry cried, " they come ; great guns ! the nut- 
meg Yankees come ! " 

The first " forlorn hope " volunteers to cross Port 
Hudson's verge, — 

Pit honor to your brave Thirteenth, and gallant 
General Birge ! — 

Nay, first, your own historians say, when Richmond's 
flag went down. 

To leap triumphant o'er its walls, and greet the cap- 
tured town ! 

O, noble record of a State, upon whose shield be- 
fore 

Had shone, emblazoned, deathless deeds of patriot 
men of yore ; 

O, Mother of a glorious race, whose loyalty, the 
same 

Through all the years, could only add fresh laurels 
to thy fame ! 

And now, a grander spectacle, to all the earth we 

show, — 
As, in the peaceful walks of life, once more we come 

and go J 



396 POEMS. 

Nay, as, once more, in friendly grasp, fraternal hands 

entwine, — 
And whilom foemen gladly meet as brothers of lang 

syne! 

The dream is past ; so let it fade ; — the hideous, 
dreadful dream ; — 

The night is o'er ; so let us hail the morning's rose- 
ate gleam. 

O'er all the land once more behold the starry flag 
unfurled, — 

Whose radiant sheen, now all undimmed, shall yet 
illume the world ! 

S, B. S. 



POEM. 397 



POEM, 

BEAD AT SILYER WEDDING OF HON. AND MRS. WM. D. 
BISHOP, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., OCTOBER 21, 1875. 

Ring out, ye joyous marriage-bells ! ring out your 

silvery chimes ; 
And wake, this hour, the memories of other days and 

times ; 
Of days and times since first we saw this newly 

pHghted pair 
Set forth together, all the joys and ills of Hfe to share. 

I see them now ; he, freshly forth from academic 
bowers. 

Aglow with hope, alert with zeal, assured of ripen- 
ing powers ; 

She, foreordained a heart Hke his to captivate and 
win. 

By charms that could but half reveal the loveher 
soul within. 

It was a gladsome spectacle ; the future seemed so 

fair, 
And life was all rose-color then unto the youthful 

pair; 



398 pomis. 

Yet not so glad, so picturesque, so eloquent a 

sight, 
As, 'neatli the fav'ring smiles of Heaven, we witness 

here to-night ! 

For time, each year's development so kindly did 
unfold, 

That all, and more, is reahzed, than early hope fore- 
told ; 

And bride and groom, we dare to say, as swift years 
have floAvn o'er. 

Have learned to honor and to love each other more 
and more. 

"We know the charm of youthful hope — I mean, we 
" old folks" do, 

"Who, five and twenty years ago, had found it " sweet 
to woo ;" 

But Hope stands always at the prow, and holds 
more sure command. 

When brave Fruition sits astern, and lends a help- 
ing hand. 

The youth and maid could promise fair ; — of course, 

they always do ; — 
But time alone can tell if they shall keep their 

promise true. 



POEM. _ 399 

Ah ! many a wedding day has dawned with bright 

auroral glow, 
And been the prelude of a life of bitterness and 

woe. 

And therefore, with enhanced dehght, and with pe- 
culiar pride, 

As five-and-twenty years have sped, we greet this 
groom and bride ; 

And as we note how pleasantly their wedded lives 
have run. 

Pronounce with hearty joy the benedictive words, 
" weU done ! " 

No doubt they've had their small disputes ; no doubt, 

in their dominion, 
They each may now and then have had a " contrary 

opinion." 
Mayhap, as somewhat tardily, some night he did 

come in. 
He had to hear those dreadful words : — " My dear ! 

where have you been ? " 

Perhaps, sometimes, he thought he felt a spasm of 
distress, 

At figures, for what seemed to him a quite superflu- 
ous dress ; 



400 POEMS. 

But when the fabric was made up, the sum grew less 

alarming, 
And he was ready to agree " she never looked so 

charming ! " 

Such conjugal asperities as these two may have had, 
Have evidently left no trace or record that is sad. 
Each one the heart's desire has seemed so nicely to 

fulfill, 
That while he seemed to have his way, she always 

had her "Will!" 

Ten years ago, the compliment methought exceed- 
ing clever. 

That she, a fifteen-summers bride, was " handsomer 
than ever ;" 

And now, she is so very old, it cannot make her vain, 

As, challenging dispute, I pay the comphment 
again. 

Ten years ago, — ^ye may recall, whose memories are 
not dim, — 

Our muse embodied in her song, some pleasant 
things of him. 

He keeps on growing, and revolves in more ex- 
panded ring. 

And quondam Railroad President is now a Kailroad 
King. 



POEM. 401 

Ten years! what miglity grief thej brought for 
some of us to bear, — 

But they have left at this hearth-stone, — thank Hea- 
ven, — no vacant chair ! 

O, sire and dame ! with us this hour recall with 
pious joy, 

How through your ministrations fond, God spared 
your darling boy ! 

And now it but remains to add, in some befitting 

phrase, 
Kind wishes that a favoring sun illume the coming 

days ; 
That peacefully and prosperously the stream of life 

may flow. 
And — in the self same strain we sang, . so many 

years ago — 

That — rarest chance to mortal lot ; still let the wish 
be spoken — 

The silver cord be loosened not, nor the golden 
bowl be broken, 

Ere at life's even you shall stand, inspired by mem- 
ories olden, 

To join each faithful hand with hand, in nuptials 
that are golden. 



402 POEMS, 

And when the promised Bridegroom comes, O may 

we all behold 
The crystal stream, the silver thrones, the City of 

pure gold ; 
And join that august shining throng, before the 

Great I am. 
To celebrate, eternally, the Mamage of the Lamb ! 

S. B. S. 



TO A LADY. 



403 



TO A LADY, 

ON BEING ASKED FOR ANOTHER OLD-TIME VALENTINE. 

What ! ask a Benedict like me, 
At such a dreadful lapse of time, — 

A quarter of a century, — 

To string the olden beads of rhyme ? 

Indeed, it were a fruitless task, 

You know not, lady, what you ask. 

For I am older, staider gro^n ; 

My face betrays the weight of care ; 
And close beside each temporal bone, 

Behold the streaks of silver hair ! 
I'm sorry, — but it must be told, — 
The dismal truth ; — I'm growing old ! 

And yet, not cold ; — for now, indeed. 
As on thy blithesome face I gaze, — 

As on some luminous page, I read 
The memories of those halcyon days. 

Old flames rekindle, and in sooth 

I feel the glorious tlirill of youth. 

And, oh ! how gently hath the hand 
Of time upon thy brow been laid ; 



404: POEMS. 

Bespeaking, as with fairy wand, 

Days more of sunshine than of shade. 
Thou same bright, sparkHng, saucy " Joe " 
Of five-and-twenty years ago ! 

Health, wealth, and love, and every weal. 
Through years and years to come, be thine ; 

"With mellow softness o'er thee steal 
Anon the rays of life's decline ; 

Till, — this thine earthly season past — 

Thou shalt o'erlook the stars at last. 

S. B. S. 



LOVE'S BIOGRAPHY. 405 

LOYE'S BIOGEAPHY. 

John Pkescott was a comely youth ; 

The type of health, the soul of ti-uth. 

His widowed mother often sighed 

"With thoughts of woe and hopes of pride, 

As sire in son she more descried. 

And oft the gossips' chatter ran, 

That John could choose w4ien once a man. 

A hearty, gleeful, hoyden girl, 
"Was John's pet playmate, Catharine Earl. 
Next neighbors, and alike in age ; 
Taught from the self-same primer page 
By Catharine's father, — saint and sage. 
And each, in memory's earliest year, 
Had followed at a parent's bier. 

And every tie which childhood knows — 
Which dearer through our lifetime grows — 
Wove friendship for this lad and maid. 
As children they had often played 
In garden, grove, and brookside glade ; 
Where now, beneath the moon they told 
The never-new and never-old, — 
The nonsense lovers will repeat. 
And think it quite as true as sweet. 

C. A. S. 



406 POEMS. 

POEM, 

BEAD AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW TOWN HALL, AT 
GBEAT HARRINGTON, MASS., JANUARY 5, 1876. 

Dear, gentle friends ; dear native scenes ; O, how I 
love ye all, 

Wlio come this hour, a tmant son, responsive to your 
call; 

Not, as in words, just fitly said, the future to fore- 
cast, 

But, haply, here and there to catch some glimpses of 
the past. 

For that is all that's left to me ; indeed, this night I 
seem. 

While gazing do^Ti the retrospect, as wakened from 
a dream ; 

Songs of a dear and cherished past repeat their old- 
en strain, 

And I'm a Barringtonian, — a Berkshii'e boy again ! 

And now — I tell you plainly — ^if you wish to hear 

from " Sam," 
One thing I do insist on : — you shall take me as I am. 
My song will be so personal, — so egotistic, too. 
Outside reporters, all avaunt ! there's no place here 

for you ! 



POEM, 407 

Among the first scenes I recall — oli ! forty years 

ago— 
My home was in the Chatfield house, within a half 

stone's throw ; 
Where, as I came the primal facts of life to realize, 
The General Whiting premises allm-ed my infant 

eyes. 

'T was quite a manor in those days ; aroimd, for 

many a mile, 
The General was sovereign, and lived in fitting style. 
The mansion was historical, and grand ; but, to my 

gaze, 
More splendid seemed the carriage-house, which held 

the coach and chaise. 

The office on the comer stood, where, once or t^vice 

a week, 
Came suitors, hot for justice, at " 'Squire Kellogg's " 

hands to seek ; 
And there, the General, oft in TVTatli magnificent to 

see, 
Taught Increase Sumner how to grow imperious as 

he. 

No railroad separated then the Chatfield grounds 

from these, 
But high board fences tried to keep us boys from off 

the trees, 



408 POEMS. 

Of whose seductive "golden sweets" we all were 
very fond, 

And now I just recall that juicy melon-patch be- 
yond. 

But to explore so far as that, required exceeding 
care ; 

Not all possessed the hardihood the venturous deed 
to dare ; 

But boys are made up variously, and thus 'twas un- 
derstood, 

That what Bob Girling wouldn't do, " your uncle '* 
surely would ! 

Just north, with Castle street between, a building 

used to stand. 
Where, it was said that all the needs of life were at 

command. 
You could be bom there, go to school, keep store, 

learn all the trades. 
Nay, spend your evenings, if inclined, with lots of 

pretty maids. 

" J. C. &, A. C. Eussell " kept the store ; and over- 
head. 

The Beekshibe Coueier first began its influence to 
shed. 



POEM. 409 

Miss Steward kept the school, and culled me out 

from all the boys, 
To make me sit amongst the girls. (She thought 

I'd make less noise ! ) 

Next north, was "Major Billy's;" — the old red 
house and the well ; 

How, in my mind, and most of yours, their vivid pic- 
tures dwell ! 

And next, the stone church, in whose rear the mead- 
ow lilies grew. 

And from the " Eock-House," leaping forth, the 
brook meandered through. 

Across the street, — I see it now — the ancient tavern 
stood ; — 

A long, broad, low, incongruous, unsightly hulk of 

wood. 
I've seen some architecture since, but let me here 

declare. 
For just downright magnificence, my boy ideal was 

there ! 

I wonder now, how many times, how much I've 

longed to pay. 
To put that structure back again, for just a single 

day; 



410 POEMS. 

To wander tlirongli its quaint old rooms, its corri- 
dors and halls, 

Eun lip and down its creaking stairs, and gaze upon 
its walls. 

An old sign, in the garret stowed, the information 
bore, 

That "Captain "Walter Pynchon" kept the tavern 
years before ; 

And numerous are the legends yet, the fancy to in- 
spire. 

Of scrapes, and jokes, and mugs of "flip," around 
that bar-room fire. 

The timbers proved exceeding staunch, and when 
George Ives appeared, 

And on the spot with statelier walls, the Berkshire 
House was reared. 

Dismembered, rudely quartered first, 'twas piece- 
meal drawn away. 

And here and there, and extant still, that tavern 
stands to-day. 

The town-house, in those earher days, stood up 

street, o'er the bridge, — 
A decent structure in its time, its white front crowned 

the ridge. 



POEM. 411 

There '* Locofocos " met defeat, and " "Whigs " went 

in to win, 
And then all hands shook hands again at L. L. Gor- 

ham's inn. 

When news of Polk's election came, the "Locos" 

to inspire, 
They jollified so strong that night, the town-house 

caught afire ; 
It made a brilliant, brief display, and went up in a 

flame, 
So, down town, — through the " Locos' " act, — the 

hustings locits came. 

And then, above the Berkshire store, we ope'd the 
new town hall. 

And had our semi-annual vote, and famous annual 
baU, 

Where all South Berkshire's " chivalry," and " flow- 
er," "eZ^^e"and "ton," 

Were wont to throng, to celebrate the birth of Wash- 
ington. 

Next, when a noble Christian zeal and pride would 

raise to God 
A worthier structure, where the old-time meeting- 
* house had stood ; 



412 POEMS. 

Become the town house, then and since, the venera- 
ble fane 

Was scarce vouchsafed a semblance of its old seK to 
retain. 

Somewhat, I know, of fond regret, in each breast 
woke its fire. 

That morning, when the old church bowed to earth 
its battered spire ; 

The upturned faces of that throng my mind is pic- 
turing yet, 

For each bespoke a sudden pang, and every eye was 
wet! 

Green be its memory, old town hall, old temple of 

the Lord ! 
Where, in my first years, Parson Burt proclaimed 

the living Word ; 
Where, all your days, ye natives bom, ye have been 

wont to find 
So much to feed the hungry soul, and mould and 

grace the mind. 

So all things flourish and decay ; yet, all along the 

past, 
Mark how each structure, each emprise was better 

than the last. 



POEM. 413 

Take birdseye view of all this vale ; compare its now 

and tlien ; — 
On every liand, what monuments to dead and living 

men! 

The church, the school, the library, the factory, the 

store, 
The telegraph, the railway train, the bridge, the 

teeming shore ; 
The very water that you drink, the very gas you 

bum, 
Improved highways, new miles of streets, bright 

homes at every turn ; 

Your model Exhibition grounds, the products at 
each fair ; — 

How each and all, and more unsaid, would make 
our grandsires stare ; 

And now, this last, not least, but fitly crowning work 
of all— 

This Town House, builded for all time ; this spa- 
cious, beauteous hall ! 

■x- * -x- -x- * 

Here let it stand ; and in its front, upon the grace- 
ful slope. 

The statued angel point aloft to realms of radiant 
hope ; 



414 POEMS. 

And with benignant hand the while, extend the lau- 
rel crown, 
As tribute to heroic sons of this " Great," lo^^al town. 

Oh, I am proud that I was born within this lovely vale ! 
Some roses here caught early bloom, that never shall 

grow pale ; 
Yet every elm-tree bough seems Hke the willow, as 

it waves ; — 
The town, so full of life for you, for me is full of 

graves ! 

Go back with me the dozen years since I had place 

with you ; 
Where, where are vanished all those olden faces 

which we knew ? 
Long roll ! it sadly, sweetly ends with name of her 

so dear. 
Who bade the world her soft " good-bye " with the 

expiring year ! * 

How might I dwell! No, — you shall see, a moment's 
space beyond, 

CAMiLLAt flash her glorious orbs, and wave her glo- 
rious wand. 

* Mrs. Bigelow, just before deceased, — a very benevolent lady. 

t Camilla Urso, who followed the opening exercises with a con- 
cert. 



POEM. 415 

For me, almost tlie sweetest task of all my life is 

done; 
Now, let us all upHf t the prayer : " God bless us, 

every one 1 " 

S. B. S. 



416 POEMS, 

LINES, 

BEAD AT BUENS FESTIVAL, BBIDGEPOBT, CONN., 1876. 

How leaped my heart within my breast ; what sud- 
den thrill was there, 

That moment, when the guard cried out the railway 
station, "Ayr!" 

Bright day in memory's calendar, in that refulgent 
June, 

As through the flowery meads we rode, to reach the 
banks of Doon. 

'T was all alive — the broad highway — ^with vehicles 
which bore 

Their pilgrims to thai cherished shrine from many 
a distant shore. 

So, all the summer days, they said, — and so the re- 
cord told, — 

Came multitudes from near and far, that valley to 
behold. 

You shall find valleys just as fair, and flowers as 

bright of hue. 
Amidst famihar scenes you take your daily rambles 

through. 



LINES. 417 

The Doon is not so proud a flood, nor can its " banks 

and braes " 
Outrival Housatonic's shores, or claim a juster 

praise. 

There's no strange beauty in the bridge that spans 
the rolling stream, 

Nor in Kirk Alloway, rent by Time with many an 
envious seam, 

Nor in the cottage more remote, within whose hum- 
ble door 

The eye but notes the circumstance of this world's 
veriest poor. 

What magic spell pervades the scene ? pray tell, why 
gather here 

The lords and ladies of the earth, with each recur- 
ring year ? 

Did some great conqueror drive herethro' his char- 
iots of war, 

And pierce the ah and rend the vale with thunder- 
bolts of Thor ? 

Did some proud queen awhile sojourn, with royal 

retinue. 
Here, by some castle, knightly tilt and pageant to 

review ? 



418 POEMS. 

Did some grand martyr here resign his body to the 
stake, 

And make oblation of himself for truth and con- 
science sake ? 

Ah, no ! a simple peasant boy, who looked with 
modest eye 

To see grand folk — now all forgot — in stately pomp 
roll by, 

At sixteen years, enamored fell, with that poor peas- 
ant maid, 

So, wrote her rhymes, and so, thenceforth, his be- 
ing's law obeyed. 

At once, a new inhabitant of the Parnassian 
grove ; 

At once a genius fully fledged ; as from the brow of 
Jove 

Leaped armed Minerva ; — so uprose to heights of in- 
stant fame 

That rural bard ; — and Robekt Bukns became a death- 
less name ! 

*' "Wild boy " was he? 'tis true, and yet 'tis idle to 

ignore it — 
That bridge is now a famous bridge, because Burns 

staggered o'er it. 



LINES. 419 

That liut belittles palaces, as all the world con- 
fesses, 

Since Burns had there his babyhood, and wore his 
swaddling dresses. 

Ab, well ! the crowns earth's true kings wear, are 
not cheap crowns of gold ; 

But coronets, bedecked with gems and jewels mani- 
fqld, 

From regions of the infinite, no vulgar minds ex- 
plore, — 

Those vast, illimitable heights that sparkle ever- 
more ! 

O, give me once again, this life, those halcyon hours 

to spend, 
Where waters of the Bonnie Doon, with Ayr and 

Ocean blend, 
And on that simple rustic bridge, to liuger and to 

dream. 
And watch the tide, and lazily throw pebbles in the 

stream ; 

And think how, century agone, those precincts, then 

so dull. 
Became so classic all at once, of memories so 

fuU, 



420 POEMS. 

Because one simple, truthful soul slied glory all 

around, 
And made of unpretentious soil, a very hallowed 

ground ! 

Then look upon the bridges twain, which span the 

dying river. 
And spake in words the poet heard, and shall be 

heard forever ; 
Then look to find the mystery far down into the 

well. 
Where, as the poet told us, " Mingo's mither hanged 

hersel' ;" 

And then ascend the monument, and view the land- 
scape there, 

And gaze within, on " Bobbie's " Jace, and Highland 
Mary's hair ; 

Then to " the Grotto " turn aside, to see how " Sau- 
ter Johnnie," 

With "Tarn O'Shanter" held carouse, as nightly 
chum and crony. 

Then once again remark the walls, which long ago 

resounded 
With roystering Scotch hilarity — " confusion worse 

confounded;" 



LIKES. ■ 421 

And quaff the cup of " mountain dew " for many 

glad returns 

Of glad birthdays and memories, to glorious Egbert 

Burns! 

S. B. S. 



422 POEMS, 



POEM, 



READ AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE 
ALUMNI, PABKER HOUSE, BOSTON, JANUARY 18, 1876. 

Now, this is rather comforting, ourselves to settle 
down 

Eound Parker's famed mahogany, in famous Boston 
town ; 

Admire each other mutually, and keep away the 
chills. 

While thinking of the dear old home far up on Berk- 
shire hills 1 

O, how it must be blust'ring there, around those 
classic rocks 

Between "West College and the place where dwelt 
Professor Cox ; 

Where, — even now the very mouth of smiling mem- 
ory waters, — 

Those buckwheat cakes were handed round by those 
three buxOm daughters ! 

We used to take the meeting-house upon the leeward 

side. 
And re-adjust our coat-tails, and a breathing space 

abide ; 



POEM. 423 

Then face again the elements, that seemed, with wild 

uproar. 
From '* Snow-Hole," by -^olus sent, their fury to 

outpour. 

It may seem strange; but ne'ertheless, I'd rather 
nestle here. 

My time of life ; and feel this warmth, and share 
this generous cheer. 

Than, e'en for once, that most tempestuous prome- 
nade to take, — 

That tri-diurnal exercise, for health's and stomach's 
sake ! 

But that was in the wintry days ; for, when the ver- 
nal gale, 

With perfumed breath, brought newer life to moun- 
tain and to yale ; 

And Pisgah answered Greylock's smile, across the' 
gorgeous scene, 

As each unto the other waved his bannerets of 
green ; 

O, never, o'er the globe's expanse — I dare this hour 

declare, — 
Ye brothers, who meanwhile have breathed Italia's 

fragrant air, 



4-24 POEMS. 

And roamed through every land, in quest of regions 

of delight, 
Have ye beheld a spot more fit to ravish sense and 

sight ! 

But truce to this ; — for I am warned to leave tliis 

theme alone ; 
So many sweeter bards have sung strains sweeter 

than my own, 
About each precious hill and dale, which to those 

parts belong ; — 
I leave them all ; they're not the regnant purpose of 

my song. 

I sing of "Williams, now and then, as she to me ap- 
pears, 

While gaziQg down my retrospect of almost thirty 
years. 

A drive of forty miles "o'er land" — no raihoad in 
those days, — 

And old " West College " first loomed up to my ad- 
miring gaze. 

Hard by, " East CoUege " stood, and " South," and 

embryo " Lawrence Hall ;" 
Observatories twain beyond ; the " Chapel ;" that 

was all ; 



POEM. 425 

But no, not all ; some " Domes of thought " sent 

forth their kindly gleam, 
And in their midst — how I recall — Mark Hopkins 

towered supreme ! 

And there we had our daily tasks, our daily sports, 
and there 

Professor Albert's " conference room " echoed the 
daily prayer ; 

And we were taught in gracious ways, that Y/e can 
ne'er forget, 

The lessons, come whatever may, will leave their in- 
fluence yet. 

New halls and towers have risen since, their lovely 
sites to crown, 

And "Williams is no more, as erst, an isolated 
town. 

New streets, new parks, new monuments to heroes 
old and new. 

On every hand to-day confront the old-time stu- 
dent's view. 

And, better, all the fleeting years have but enlarged 

the roll 
Of men, whose mental, moral force is felt from pole 

to pole ; 



426 POEMS. 

And Alma Mater wears a bright'ning halo round her 

head, 
"While multiply her honored names — her living and 

her dead ! 

Search all the records of the land ; scan fame's im- 
mortal scroll, — 

The list, unfading through all time, of men of brain 
and soul — 

List to the Forum's clarion voice ; the Pulpit's thun^ 
dering tone. 

And strains poetic, — household words, in every clime 
and zone ; — 

Go through the halls where Science waits, where 
Justice holds her seat ; 

Where Senates think ; where scholars sit at their 
Gamahel's feet ; 

Explore each field of Enterprise, of Valor ; Every- 
where 

Behold, in goodly multitude, the sons of Williams 
there ! 

O, surely. Heaven's blest favorite is each ingenuous 

youth, 
"Who seeks within these classic shades the treasuries 

of truth ! 



POEM. 427 

Praise to her Sisters ! yet we know he shall not else- 
where find 

A Mater aught more cherishing, more bountiful, 
more kind. 

From out her gates, he can but go with manlier re- 
solve. 

To mingle in life's conflict, and its mighty problem 
solve ; 

And Memory, as the years expire, wheiever he may 
roam. 

Shall cherish, with a fond delight, his sweet scholas- 
tic home. 

And, by that token, we are met, with greeting to 

each one 
As brother, and our Alma Mater's true and loyal 

son. 
So may we meet, in days to come ; and always to 

discover 
New jewels in her radiant crown, and evermore to 

love her ! 

And when the next Centennial year, for this our glo- 
rious land. 

Shall roll its round, may we have left some foot- 
prints on time's strand ; 



428 POEMS. 

And sons of Williams, yet unborn, recall, and liaply 

save 
Our death-starred names upon lier roll, from Lethe's 

envious wave ! 

And be it hers to gather in increasing stores of 

truth, 
And flourish in enlarged estate, and everlasting 

youth ; 
And scatter seeds of wisdom forth from farthest 

shore to shore, 

Till Earth itself shall pass away, and Time shall be 

no more ! 

S. B. S. 



POEM. 429 



POEM, 



DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE SOLDIERS MON- 
UMENT, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., AUGUST 17, 1876. 

Our hearts are full ; Goddess of song ! one favoring 

glance bestow, 
And re-awake the slumbering lyre, and set the verse 

aglow. 
So we may voice the sentiments which to the hour 

belong, 
And make these all-pervading thoughts articulate in 

song. 

How seeming strange ! what tongue of seer or 
prophet had foretold, 

A simple score of years agone, the scene we here 
behold. 

So, like huge giants, grand events do ever stalk sub- 
lime, 

New mile-stones to uprear along the vast highway 
of time. 

So, ever on the world's broad stage, the heroes come 

and go, 
To speak betimes the needed word; to strike the 

needed blow ; 



4-30 POEMS. 

So monuments have risen, and shall rise, while ages 

roll, 
Until the very heaven itself shall vanish as a 

scroU. 

So history instructs us all, and stiU repeats the 

story,— 
No age unto itself shall claim monopoly of glory. 
The stern, ambitious centuries shall with each other 

vie, 
And virtue shall not cease to live, and valor shall 

not die. 

So, these our own experiences, our minds do but 

enable 
To rescue all the storied past frqm the domain of 

fable. 
Who doubts to-day what courage nerved the men 

of elder E-ome, 
"Whose very eyes have seen its very counterpart at 

home ! 

A hundred years — a breath of time — ^have passed 

away since when 
Our fathers sought to 'stablish here a nursery of 

men. 



POEM. 



431 



Prolific years! O, how events witllin their circle 

crowd, 
To make their children trebly glad; nay, jubilant 

and proud. 

For, under God, to all earth's states and empires, we 

have shown 
How every man may be a man, and each possess a 

throne ; 
And just proclaimed to all the waiting world in tones 

sublime, — 
" This Union, indestructible, shall last as long as 

Time ! " 

And round the world, to make those tones so reso- 
nant to-day, 

How well we know what noble forms are mould'ring 
into clay. 

So, to their memories we come this cenotaph to 
rear, 

And once more shed above their dust the reveren- 
tial tear. 

And, after all, 't was timely done ; not ingrate be it 

said. 
Hath this our loyal city proved unto her bravely 

dead. 



432 POEMS. 

O, better thus, that after lapse of these reflecting 
years, 

So fresh at last, so grand, so fair, our monument ap- 
pears. 

Hereby the dead, and e'en our living selves, we do 
assure 

Of gratitude unspoiled of time — potential to en- 
dure. 

And grow as an undying cypress o'er each hero's 
grave, 

"While grows to vaster bounds and ends, the State 
he died to save ! 

And unforgotten be the thought, that — most divine- 
ly human — 

This gratitude found surest place within the breast 
of woman. 

Why not! pray tell, by whom each death-inviting 
deed was done ? 

Some maid's fond lover ; wife's fond spouse ; some 
mother's cherished son ! 

O, when the everlasting Book, in syllables of 
gold. 

The unrevealed biographies of angels shall un- 
fold; 



POEM. 433 

How then, on every dazzling page, in each resplend- 
ent line. 

Eternally the records of true womanhood shall 
shine ! 

" What lives she for ? " — exclaimed a youth, with su- 
percilious air, 

As at her cottage door a dame sat knitting in her 
chau' ; 

" What lives she for?" — the answer came ; — " Her 
husband and three sons 

In one brave charge at Gettysburg, fell dead before 
the guns ! 

A fourth son holds judicial seat ; while yet another 

stands 
A famed Apostle of the Word in yet unchristian 

lands. 
She only vraits in God's good time. His rich rewards 

to share. 
So there she sits, serenely sad, and knitting in her 

chair." 

Throughout the years since waged the war, some 

hearts, with impulse tender, 
Have throbbed, a tribute to our brave in fitting 

form to render ; 



434 POEMS. 

To-day — ^the work consummated — to each and every 

one, 
In each breast wells the sentiment — "Ye faithful 

souls, well done ! " 

And now, outlooking on the sea that clasps the 

smiling strand, 
Defiant of the shocks of time, that glorious form 

shall stand, 
"With outstretched arm, magnificent, the laurel to 

bestow 
On heroes whose bright names adorn the lettered 

plinth below. 

Our soldier boy, with form erect, shall greet each 

rising sun ; 
Our sailor watch the gorgeous west, as every day is 

done ; 
While Liberty, now all white-robed, displays the 

sword that gave 
To her true life, the while it broke the shackles of 

the slave ! 

They tell us, in the not remote, nor doubtful by- 

and-by. 
Along these shores, the most majestic argosies shall 

ply- 



POEM, 435 

This placid inland sea those mammoth shuttles 

shall pass through, 
Forever weaving webs between the Old "World and 

the New. 

Then, from their decks, the emigrant ahke, and ti- 
tled guest. 

As, gazing from the starboard side, their curious 
eyes shall rest 

On fair Columbia's shore, among its crowning roofs 
and towers, 

Shall single out, with pleased surprise, this Senti- 
nel of ours ; 

And learn, ere yet their feet have pressed the hospi- 
table earth, 

What tribute our New England pays to valor and to 
worth ; 

And feel im.patient haste to touch the soil of Yankee 
land, 

And hear a hearty Yankee voice, and grasp a Yan- 
kee hand ! 

Here shall the beauteous fabric stand, as seasons 

come and go ; 
Beflect the summer's sun, and wear its wintry robes 

of snow ; 



436 POEMS. 

And, in their time, tlie autumn leaves ; and, every 

joyous spring, 
Allure tlie birds to gather round, and build their 

nests and sing. 

The boys, in mimic soldier-garb, shall here make 

holiday ; 
The yachts do glad obeisance as they toss within the 

bay. 
And children hold their festivals close by, within the 

grove. 
And plighted ones stroll here at eve to whisper words 

of love. 

Here shall the stately equipage, and unpretentious 
wain 

Bring oft their groups to view these forms, and read 
these names again ; 

And music, chiming with the waves, shall wake melo- 
dious air, 

And twilight offer respite here to daily toil and 
care. 

And so the sure years shall revolve; and when, 

amidst the dead, 
On humbler tablets, here and there, our own names 

shall be read. 



POEM. 437 

Enough for us, in coming time, in memory of these 

days. 
If lips unborn shall bid us share the tribute of their 

praise. 

Meanwhile, O, fair instructress! teach the lesson 
from above. 

How better than material good is the sweet wealth 
of love ; 

Inciting, as we gaze on thee, such converse and be- 
haviour. 

As makes us more akin to God, and to the gentle 

Saviour. 

S. B. S. 



438 POEMS. 



LINES, 

BEAD BEFORE I. 0. O. F., VIRGINIA CITY, NEY., APRIL 
26, 1868. 

In these emphatic and tumultuous days, 
When sins are to the lowest scale deplored, 

Or favor strained in every term of praise — 
As ladies' notes are largely underscored ; 

When argument seems but a needless speech, 
Unless it bear, for force, some deadly threats, 

And riot is assumed the mode to teach 
That Charity which pardons and forgets ! 

When all is last, and everything is first, 

When good is best, and bad *s denounced the worst. 

And men and actions either kicked or cursed ; 

When simple positives of human thought 
To fierce superlatives are raised and wrought. 
And old poetic types of joys and woes 
Are dwarfed by new hyperboles of prose ; — 

In short, when modern heat of temper and of tone 
Has, in the moral and the lettered sense, 



LINES. 439 

Destroyed the climate of a tempered zone, 
To substitute the torrid and intense : 

How can we hope our set and sober theme 
Will marked attention and respect invite, 

When in imperfect phrase we tell a scheme 
That needs no plea, that seeks no proselyte ? 

Yet may we sing, though our admonished muse 
Itself proclaim the critic's chosen wrong. 

And seem, at first, to question and accuse 
For faults which title all the following song. 

Hail, mighty Sun ! that gladdens into mom 
The hours that date the instituting birth 

Of this Grand Order, whose design was born 
Beneath the Angel's good-will chant to Earth ! 

Hail ! men in bonds to fellowsiiip and truth ! 

United by the dying, o'er the dead ; 
Or, having passed the discipline of 3^outh, 

The rocky road, without a guide, can tread ! 

Hail ! blessed memories, which the day invest ! 

Not heard in story, nor explained by creeds : 
Though hidden, yet the Ciphers which suggest 

Form choral alphabets of friendly deeds. 



440 POEMS. 

Welcome the year ! for which ye now, anew, 
Eepeat your vows to sacred toil and strife. 

And pledge the glory of the Past's review 
In ample token of a higher life. 

What summons bid these goodly men repair. 
With obvious pleasure and enlightened zeal, 

To upper chambers which with ritual care, 

Are ope'd by signs, and closed with secret seal. 

No public heralding the stated hour. 
No printed words the usual objects tell ; 

No sect seductions wield attractive power : — 
The finest chapel and the sweetest bell ; 

The loveHest shepherd of the wealthiest flock ; 

The largest gathering of the worldly great ; 
The church, where simple purchasers of stock 

In weekly mourning humbly congregate ; 

None such as these appeal or motive lend 
To fill these courts, or propagate our plan ; 

For he who enters must be vouched a friend ; 
Who gains the grasp need only be a Man. 

Though doubly sentineled and barred the gates 
Of Temples which our Order rears and rules, 



LINES. 441 

Lo ! not in vain tlie weeping widow waits 
Without the portals of the Vestibules. 

O, Ministry to suffering, sublime ! 

O, shrine of Mercy, quick to Heaven's assail ! 
Wliere, through the babble of this heartless time, 

"With helpful grief is heard the Orphan's wail ! 

The trophies of great battle triumphs bring 
And fill the museums for a nation's pride ; 

As they are gathered let the welkin ring 

With songs which desperate threatenings defied. 

Raise high the pedestals, in park and town. 
Whereon the Hero's marble form may stand, 

To mark and to perpetuate renown. 
For love and service to a glorious land. 

Adorn each capitol's rotunda space 

With paintings of bright deeds for Freedom's home. 
And crown the champion of an age or race 

Upon the summit of the soaring dome ! 

But where the earthly monuments of those — 

Save they have built an alms-house for their fame — 

Whose labor to relieve the common woes. 

In worldly walks had reaped a mighty name ? 



442 POEMS. 

And even tliougli tlie costly Mural gave 
A truthful tale of duty without price, 

The stolen hymn that marks each villain's grave, 
Provokes the thought of Yirtue mocked by Yice. 

And where the prizes Charity has gained 
In Misery's scenes, which her apostles trod ? 

Intangible Jiei^ trophies — else profaned 
The honor and the husbandry of God ! 

There is no history for the mortal eye. 

There is no shaft that smites the distant cloud, 

Graven or raised with grace to testify 

Of kindred acts which Heaven's blest vaults en- 
shroud. 



In this new land, where each man has his creed ; 
Where meanest delvers often strike a lead ; 
Where bloody tragedy, audacious theft. 
And homes of peace connubial bereft, 
Whatever verdict partial juries take, 
By natural laws are bound a book to make. 
Where well-born subjects early leave their nurse 
But to relieve the parent's plethoric purse ; 
Where little girls to debauchees are tied, 
Until the Judge declares tho Priest has lied ; 



LINES. 443 

Where married women, of reproacliless fame, 

With each new bonnet change their wedded name, 

And, pitying, view those left by them in lurch — 

Their poorer sisters of the self-same church — 

Who, it would seem quite rational to fear, 

Will never marry— -more than once a year ! 

Where politicians sneer at moral worth 

As not related to official birth ; 

Where candidates long hanker on the shelves ; 

Wliere snobs and loafers satirize themselves ; 

Where wretches known to be in guilt so deep 

That angels vainly for their souls might weej) ; 

To tenderest passions mournfully appeal, 

And picture love and truths they never feel ; — 

Out from their pits of sensual blackness run 

Their fiery cars of rhetoric to the sun ! 

Where brainless vagrants, filled with dirty spite, 

Affect the courage of an Ishmaelite ; 

Where money-sharks relentless prey, and then 

Are epitheted, "First-rate business men ! " 

Wliere sordid self is potentate and rule ; 

Who gives for friendship is an arrant fool ! 

Where scarce relieved frivolity prevails ; 

Where Mercenaries crawl to honored place ; 
Where Legal License actually avails ; 

To consecrate the world's supreme disgrace ; — 



444 POEMS. 

How can you think to organize a plan 

That shall retain its worldng skill and power 

To cheer the heart and meet the wants of man ; 
"Without a starthng tocsin for each hour ? 

Thy neighbors' dangers and thine own attend 
On every moment, threatening every breath ! 

"Where is the system that shall wisest lend 

All human aid 'gainst Chance, Disease and Death ? 

When great catastrophe occurs, and calls 

For special contributions and relief ; 
When fearful carnage all the land appalls 

And moves the coldest to a generous grief ; 

Abundant means for succor are obtained ; 

Ten thousand hands, gratuitous, extend 
To help, till life and peace once more are gained, 

And dreadful memories to the Past descend. 

But, in the callous or indifferent world. 
When quiet broods upon the social face ; 

When all are not in shocks of sorrow whirled. 
How find and soothe the miseries of the race ? 

This greatest precept must be held in view — 
Given by the Father to the perfect Son : — 



LIKES, 445 

Whatever right or duty thou wouldst do, 
In secret service let the work be done ! 

Strip from the Symphony the vulgar rhyme 
"Which blasphemy upon its cords has hung ; 

How clear the soul lifts with the swelling chime ! 
How purely thrills the music, harped or sung I 

Music ! Th' Etherial, and the Undefiled ! 

The heart and utterance of celestial truth ; 
Eevealing in its innocence a child ; 

Its beauteous strength portraying sinless youth. 

So man : weak, vain, when nurtured with pretense ; 

If private hour and fellow mortal's needs 
Conspke to drive each earthly impulse hence, 

May execute the unpolluted deeds ! 

Deeds of redemption ; though the Judge devotes 

All other actions to comsuming fire — 
Changed by celestial alchemy to notes 

In Time's great anthem, for the Harvest Choir ! 
Aye ! Deeds that shall be celebrated when 
The Morning Stars, in rapture, sing again ! 

0. A. S. 



446 POEMS. 



THE FUNERAL. 



It was a siglitly funeral train, 

The undertaker man, 
With coffin-faced solemnity, 

Conspicuous, led the van. 
The priest, with comely garb and mien, 

Sate, reverent, at his side ; 
Then came the hearse, whose stately plumes 

Bespoke a solemn pride. 

*' First carriage": — wherein honest grief 

Seemed manifest displaj^ed. 
And kerchief d eyes would fain shut out 

Observance and parade. 
"Coach Number Two": — a lighter shade 

Of sorrow and distress ; 
Then " Number Three" : — appearances 

Of partial listlessness. 

But curious ; the occupants 

Of carriage " Number Four," 
Yawned, as to vote the whole affair 

A ceremonious bore ; 
But, "Five," " Six,'^ " Seven," made amends, 

With ever-broadening smile, 



THE FUNERAL, 447 

As ancedote and joke went round, 
The journey to beguile. 

But — vastly worse — our truthful muse 

Would hardly dare to state, — 
Were not these verses based on fact — 

The scenes in " Number Eight ;" 
Where two gay youths and two fair maids 

Were visibly" diverting 
Their minds from the solemnities, 

By levity, and flu'ting. 

And then behold in "Number Nine," 

A scene transcending far, 
All we have chronicled as yet,— 

Four men, each with cigar ; 
A robe upon their knees outspread. 

Suspicious flask and cup, 
ForecastiQg resurrection. 

By playing " seven up !" 

Then, in the last conveyance, rode 

The female we all know. 
Who never lets occasion pass. 

To supplement the show; 



448 POEMS, 

And weeps and sobs, until the sight 

Is pitiful to see, 
And then inquires, as nears the grave, 

" Whose funeral might this be?" 

S. B. S. 



A SAILORS VISION. 449 

A SAILOK'S VISION. 

INSCKIBED TO MISS S. M. H. 

The night was beautifully clear, 

High up the full-orbed moon was shining, 

As I, — glad that our port was near, — 
Upon the capstan was reclining, 

Spying the sea, and backward thinking, — 
Such was my wont when watching nights ; — 

From future thoughts persistent shrinking, 
As never yielding old delights. 

Alone my solace in the past. 

Through all the hours of toil and care : 
The morrow's sky was overcast 

With clouds whose depths I could not dare. 

The sailor's thoughts of home were sweet ; 

Though late in life he learned their truth, 
He prayed that he in Heaven might meet 

The first companions of his youth. 

How the dear scenes passed in review, — 

Pictures of gold he pondered o'er ! 
How far beyond all price they grew, 

As he repeated, " nevermore I " 



450 POEMS. 

And yet there was no mean repining, 
No sickly yearning for the lost ; 

Those tender memories interlining 
Life's record, cheat it of its cost. 

With pain at times we throw them by. 
But soon return, when 'tis revealed 

That in those shades which never die 
The actual substance is concealed. 

It, was not fear or shame that filled 
My soul, when forward it might look : 

An " undefined presence " chilled. 
And cursed the prospect I forsook. 

But now, why should I try evade — 

So close the Fleet Wing's harbor lay — 

Reflections, which before forbade 
The simplest comfort on my way ? 

Eight bells struck aft ; upon relief 
I did not join the crew below ; 

Their hearts with joy, as mine with grief, 
Unreasonable bounds o'erflow. 

Beneath the boats I made my bed. 

Hid from the moon's destructive beams \ 



A SAILOR'S VISION. 45I 

Again the earliest pages read, 

And gained the quiet boyhood dreams. 

What is this strangely following sight ? 

What blessed Angels walk before ; 
Repeat the day, dispel the night, 

And make me anxious for the shore ? 

Almost a copy for the time 

That I had held in such esteem, 
Hope for its likeness seemed a crime, 

Was promised in the Sailor's Dream. 

With me such unbelief remained, 
Against its haunting force I strove ; 

But constantly it was sustained, — 
With every calculation wove. 

Four times the Farallones we made ; 

Three times the lights flashed on the lee ; 
Four times the winds opposing staid, 

And drove us to the open sea. 

What curious passions fill my mind ! 

Now they depress and now elate. 
When after five long months we find 

An entrance through the Golden Gate. 



452 POEMS. 

And here begins the wondrous choice ; 

And here commenced prophetic days : 
Familiar was the Pilot's voice ; 

I recognized the city's ways. 

With utmost faithfulness, each part 
Of hour and day disclosed the fact 

Which I had written on my heart, — 
Foreshadowed, and fulfilled exact. 

The old New England home, once more I 
The welcome, and the cheerful fire, 

Contrasted suffering, than before 
A keener relish must inspire. 

But ah ! the vision failed to tell 

Of her, whose beauty soon destroys 

The peace of life, I loved so well ; 
A deeper hope my soul employs. 

With unaffected ease she spoke 
Of mutually famihar friends : 

The memories her words evoke 
A cherished possible transcends. 

I lent to her my favorite books, 

And proved our tastes ahke incHned : 



A SAILORS VISION. 453 

Forgetting e*en her charming looks, 
In her enchanting grace of mind. 

The story of the Dream 's complete. 

'T was fully true, save nought of 07ie ! 
If a revealing trance repeat, 

And finish what was thus begun — ? 

aA.s. 

Sacbamento, Nov. 25» 1857. 



454 POEMS. 



POEM, 

DELIVEBED AT THE ANNUAL EXHIBITION OP THE HOUSA- 
TONIG AGRICULTUEAL SOCIETY AT GREAT BAR- 
RINGTON, MASS., SEPT. 29, 1876. 

I'm no farmer ; not a syllable from lips of mine 

shall drop, 
To accelerate or magnify a solitary crop ; 
And I only come, with careless rhyme, to greet 

these friends of mine, 
The acquaintances of years ago, the neighbors of 

of "lang syne." 

And 'tis singular — I came to sing, — but all things 

sing to me. 
Olden tunes come wafted to my ear from every rock 

and tree ; 
And I seem but echo, as I stand within this native 

vale, 
And each object in the landscape round repeats an 

olden tale. 

But how things have changed ! go back with me the 

four and thirty years. 
To the time when this good enterprise began with 

doubts and fears. 



POEM, 455 

'T was a curious coincidence ; the railway train, you 

know, 
First arrived in town that day, and brought its 

crowds to see the show. 

And the " show" was scattered all around, — a little 
here and there. 

Oxen here, sheep over yonder, and confusion every- 
where ; 

Butter, cheese, and patch-work counterpanes, and 
what not, stored in halls. 

While along the street were improvised seductive 
oyster stalls. 

O, let modem cookery essay its best exploits in 

vain. 
For those oysters, and that gingerbread we'll never 

taste again, — 
So dehcious, and so toothsome, and done up so very 

" brown," 
Titillating the oKactories of all the boys in town ! 

How we used to hoard our shilliags up, for weeks 

and months ahead, 
To invest in those bivalvous plants, and buy that 

gingerbread ! 



456 POEMS. 

And how some have made their fortunes since, who, 

all those years ago, 
Peddled sweets and peanuts to the folks who came 

to " cattle show !" 

I remember, to the rearward of the stone church 
used to stand 

Half a dozen gorgeous wagons, with their fancy 
goods on hand. 

And some very flippant orators their merchandise 
would cry, 

O'er-persuading by their eloquence, the rustic pass- 
ers by. 

One I think of in particular, — most charming auc- 
tioneer — 

Whom I knew I might anticipate with each return- 
ing year; 

Whose financial sacrifices, if the half he said was 
true. 

Must have made him bankrupt, if alive ; I'd hke to 
* put him through !' 

Then, the man who showed the learned pig, and 
donkey with three legs. 

And the cripple, who displayed the ball that knock- 
ed away his pegs ; 



POEM. 457 

And the everlasting soap man, nevermore to be for- 
got, 

"Who could cleanse your coat or conscience from a 
microscopic spot ! 

'Twas in those days, Major Rosseter — methinks I 

see him now — 
Something over seventy years of age, walked proud 

behind the plow 
While before, at least a hundred stalwart oxen were 

aligned, 
And His Excellency, Governor Briggs, and magnates 

marched behind ! 

And in front of all, surrounded by enthusiastic 
boys. 

That new village brass band vexed the air with com- 
plicated noise, 

And escorted all the people, to the semblances of 
tunes. 

To the meeting where should be dispensed the 
speeches, songs, and — spoons ! 

From beginnings such as these, the institution 

thrived and grew, — 
For its foimders, as the sequel proved, built wiser 

than they knew ; 



458 POEMS, 

I might tell you all the history in lengthy dia- 
tribe, 

As, through many a year, as I recall, I played the 
role of scribe, 

"What intense debates we used to have, when first 
awoke desire 

Some distinctive habitation for our purpose to ac- 
quire ; 

And how many croakers shook their heads, and 
said it wouldn't pay; 

Who shall find their sage prognostications all at 
fault to-day ! 

And now what an educator this emprise hath proved 

to be! 
Looking back a generation, what results we come to 

see. 
Better farms and better mansions, better harvests 

now than then ; 
Better quadrupeds and bipeds, — ^brighter women, 

thriftier men ! 

So, one thing begets another, through our life-work 

as we go. 
And each tributary makes the river grander in its 

flow; 



POEM. 459 

And nnto what vast proportions it shall magnify 

and swell, 
In the century that's coming, who shall ventui-e to 

foretell ? 

In that wondrous exhibition, now surprising all the 

earth, 
How we %vitness with amazement, to what Art hath 

given birth. 
Unto patient Labor wedded, as together, hand in 

hand, 
They have cultured all the planet and embellished 

every land ! 

See how Eussia vies with Turkey, and Australia 
with Japan, 

In the onward march of progress, all contesting for 
the van. 

Side by side see China, Germany and Austria ad- 
vance, 

With the Netherlands, Spain, Norway, Sweden, 
Italy, and France ! 

Then the Argentine Eepublic, Chili, Mexico, Bra- 
zil, — 
In the world's confederation, each a mission to ful- 



460 POEMS. 

"While old England, on whose vast domains there 

looks no setting sun, 
With a pride we all forgive her, shows the trophies 

she has won ! 

Unto all of these according, as we do, the meed of 

praise, 
How our own beloved Columbia evokes our own 

amaze, 
As in each field of endeavor, each proud rival she 

defies, — 
In the tournament of nations, bearing off the highest 

prize ! 

And for all her sudden glory, I assert that unto 

you, 
Men and women of New England, much of all the 

praise is due. 
Take the purple wings of morning, girdle all the 

globe in vain. 
Nowhere else shall you discover more of sinew, heart 

and brain. 

And from out these rural valleys, and from off these 

mountain slopes. 
Have gone many brave evangelists of this young 

nation's hopes. 



POEM. 4g| 

'Tis the country makes the city, and your country 
boys are they, 

Who control your gi-and metropolis and capital, to- 
day. 

Now, the lesson I would leave you, friends and 

neighbors, as we part, — 
Cultivate not matter only, but the vineyard of the 

heart. 
Give the plow its meed of honor, but no less the 

brain and pen, 
And, whatever else, keep raising your true women 

and good men 1 

IS. B. S. 



462 POEMS. 

LINES, 

PRESENTED AS A SILVER WEDDING GIFT. 

Full five and twenty years ago, — 
Ah, me ! wliat recollections swarm, — 

Louisa changed her maiden name, 
To please her Francis Mandlebaum.* 

And if for me, whose diary page 
In single blessedness descends. 

The century quarter seems an age, 
How must it look to these dear friends ? 

For they have had such cause for joy, — 
Eed-letter hours of festal mirth, — 

In anniversary employ, 
For wedding day and children's birth ; 

And they have had such scenes of woe, 
As death of children must decree. 

Since five-and-twenty years ago 

They married 'neath the almond-tree. 

To them, indeed, the span of years 
With tenderest incidents is set ; 

* Signifies almond-tree. 



LINES. 463 

Not one of which, mid smiles and tears, 
Could they consent to quite forget. 

Now when they round this arc of time, 
I hope they will not spurn from me 

The gift I'd lay with friendship's thyme, 
Upon their silver almond-tree. 

C. A. S. 



464 POEMS. 



LINES, 

READ AT BURNS FESTIVAL, BRIDGEPORT, CONN., JANUARY 
25, 1877, IN RESPONSE TO A TOAST — THE LASSIES. 

What wonder Scotia's lyric bard 

All lyric bards surpasses. 
Whose inspiration was the glance 

Of Scotia's bonnie lassies. 
In Edinboro', — on the Clyde, 

In Ayr — delicious creatures ! — 
How I have worshipped, (as I sighed,) 

The glory of their features. 

Perhaps it is ozonic air, 

Off those gigantic mountains ; 
Perhaps the waters, as they flow 

From Alton's sparkling fountains : 
Perhaps, more like, the genial light 

Of wholesome hearths, and cozy. 
That makes those eyes so clear and bright, 

Those Hps and cheeks so rosy. 

There's many a Highland Mary yet. 

That land can reproduce. 
And many a maid walks there as proud 

As in the days of Bruce .: 



LINES. 

And many a Queen of Scots still lives, 
And Vernons and Mac Ivors, 

In fact, if not in fiction, leave 
A host of sweet survivors ! 

O, when shall I forget the morn, 

On which the Judge and I, 
At Melrose Abbey's guarded gates. 

For guidance did apply. 
Soft eyes fi'om out the lattice peeped,— 

A welcome voice, but shy. 
Said, " I'll encase my feet from dew, 

The lawn is scarcely dry." 

Then, in a trice, from out the door, 

A vision, I'll declare. 
Burst, such as never seemed before 

Transcendently so fair. 
That tabernacle of alhgrace 

I see in day-dreams now : 
That figure, and that radiant face, 

And that Madonna brow ! 

Sir Walter tells us, as we know, 

To see Melrose aright. 
We should behold its ruined walls 

Beneath the soft moonlight. 



465 



466 POEMS. 

The dear old soul ! he could but say 
' Twere more delightful Aidenn, 

To gather its traditions up 
Erom lips of such a maiden ! 

I know not of her name or place. 

Nor can conjecture even 
Whether on earth still beams her face. 

Or one new star decks heaven. 
But, living yet, a health this night ! 

There's not a flower that blows 
More fragrant on the banks of Tweed, — 

Fair rose of fair Melrose ! 

O, Scotland ! ever bright'ning page 

In my memorial volume ; 
For all thou hast, and art, we'd raise 

The laudatory column ! 
Thy scenery, thy history, 

The scrolls thou hast unfurled, — 
The lanterns thou hast set ablaze 

To lumine all the world ; 

Let others speak to-night of these, — 

As fittingly they T^ill. — 
Be mine my pretty text to keep — 

My sweet task to fulfill ; 



LINES. 467 

To sing a simple heartfelt strain, 

In honor of dear woman, 
Who everywhere, but nowhere more, 
Than upon Caledonia's shore, 

Allies divine with human ! 

O, I am growing old apace. 

And yet — I know not why — 
Not unneglected of my glance, 

The lassies pass me by. 
I love them all ; — fair flowers they are 

By our kind Author given, 
Vouchsafing here some little share 

And foretaste of that Heaven., — 

Where, let us hope, we all shall meet, 

And on the blooming heather, — 
The other side of Jordan's stream, — 

Koam lovingly together. 
So I conclude with sermon, what 

Was meant to be a song, 
And, in a word — God bless us all ! — 

The sermon wasn't long. 

S. B. S. 



468 POEMS. 



SHAKESPEAEE. 

LINES BEAD AT THE ANNUAL BANQUET OF ST. GEORGE's 
SOCIETY, BRIDGEPORT CONN., 1877. 

Three centuries ago there trod 
The banks of Avon, up and down, 
One, who upbore no earthly crown, 
But crowned magnificent of God. 

Imperial soul ! so vastly stored 
From out the treasuries of thought ; 
What empyrean realms it sought ; 
What undiscovered heights explored ! 

Shakespeare ! Arch Poet, bard sublime ; 
Seer, autocratic sage profound ; 
How shall thy crescent fame resound 
Through all the corridors of time ! 

Earth's sceptred kings may come at will. 
And each abide his little day ; 
And strut his while, and pass away 
And other kings their places fill ; 

But THOU shalt still assert thy throne, 
Whose grandeur shall attempt in vain 



SHAKESPEARE. ^39 

All lords of earth ; and thou shalt reign 
Majestical, supreme, alone ! 

For thou hast caught from out the spheres 
Of upper air, Promethean fire. 
Proud Hermit, where none dare aspire, 
Thou scornest the retreat of years ; — 

Years which shall pass us laughing by. 
And leave us wrecked on Lethean shore ; 
Whilst thou shalt live forever more 
In thoughts and words that cannot die ! 

S. B. S. 



470 POEMS. 

THE FATHEK AND THREE SONS. 

From the German. 

As OLD in years, and rich in goods, 
And flocks, and teeming soil, 

A sire apportioned to liis sons 
The product of his toil. 

" One diamond ring," the old man said, 
" Is here, which I withhold ; 

It shaU be his, who can to me 
The noblest act unfold. " 

Thereat the brothers separate, 
And go their several ways ; 

And to their aged sire return, 
At lapse of many days. 

Then spake the eldest brother : " Hear ! 

A stranger all his hoard 
Entrusted me ; the which I held. 

And faithfully restored ; 

" Say, Father, may I not presume 
To claim the glittering prize ? 
How looks a noble deed like that. 
In the parental eyes?" 



TEE FATHER AND THREE SONS. 47I 

"You did, my son," — the old man said — 

" What duty bade you do. 
The deed was good, — not noble though, 

'Twas simply, to be true." 

The other spake : "As journeyed I 

Along in careless way, 
I heard a fearful wild outcry 

From out a storm-tossed bay. 

" I plunged into the angry wave, 

The drowning child upbore ; 
And saved it from the watery grave, — 

Could noble man do more ?" 

"My boy," the sire replied, — "You did 

What mortals here below 
In kindly offices of love 

Unto each other owe." 

" The youngest spake : " Upon the brink 

Of a stupendous steep — 
Unconscious of his peril — lay 

My enemy, asleep. 

" Within my hand I held his life,— 
One thrust had hurled him o'er, — 



472 POEMS. 

I drew him back ; we slevr our strife. 
And we are foes no more." 

" O !" said tlie sire, with loving glance— 
" Hither my noble boy, advance ! 
The ring is thine ! Welch edler Muth ! 
Wenn Man dem Feinde Gutes thuf 

S. B. S. 



THE TBAMP'S SOLILOQUY. 473 

THE TRAMP'S SOLILOQUY. 

Last night, within the Station House, 

I was distinctly fioored. 
I noticed, while I had my bed, 

Therewith I had my board. 
But now it 's morn, and breakfast time ; 

I'll sally forth and beg. 
I'd like a cup of old Bohea, 

A biscuit and an egg. 

Well, here's a place seems promising ; 

I'll ring the kitchen bell. 
There's something luscious broiling there,— 

O, what dehcious smell ! 
All ! here comes Bridget ; — Pray, my dear, — ■ 

Tour cooking I admire, — 
Would you a gracious morsel give 

To quell my stomach's ire ? 

What's this she says ? — "Begone, you wretch! 

Your blarney is all stuff; 
And your profession 's overdone, — 

We've seen and heard enough ! 
Begone, I say ! and mind you this, — 

Don't show your face here more." 



474 FOEMS. 

With that, she tosses up her nose. 
And, spiteful, slams the door. 

Well, well, I'll go across the street, 

And see what better luck ; — 
A saucier girl, in all my rounds, 

I'm sure I never struck. 
0, ho ! what's here ! — a boarding house 

I'll make another dash ; 
I see the breakfast bill of fare, — 

Fish-balls and mutton-hash. 



Now, if that matron had but thought 

To serve those viands warmer. 
And not from off that baby's plate, 

I wouldn't wish to storm her. 
Here, pup ; here kit ! come, try your teeth 

And talented digestion ; — 
I pass — pass out, on this queer game, 

Take, eat ; don't ask a question ! 

But now, 'tis getting serious, 

And whither shall I wend ? 
A lively notion strikes my mind, — 

The labor-search pretend. 



THE TRAMP'S SOLILOQUY. 475 

Here's just tlie place ; I see a face 

Benevolent, all over ; — 
O, lady ! for the love of God, 

Some work for me discover ! 

I'm travelling by niglit and day 

The ^vide, wide country through, 
To find some steady place to stay, — 

Some useful thing to do. 
And even now I'm famishing, 

And oh ! were I but fed. 
How gladly would I scrub that walk, 

And rake that flower-bed ! 



I had her there ; that tea was fine, — 

How nice the ham and eggs ! 
The pancakes came right in my line ; 

Once more I'm on my pegs ! 
This spoon I'll pawn somewhere away — 

Y/lien many days have sped ; 
O, lady ! here's your health ; good day ! 

O, slighted flower-bed ! 



S. B. S. 



476 POEMS, 



LINES, 

READ AT F. W. PARROTT's GOLDEN WEDDING, BRIDGEPORT, 
CONN., MAY 10, 1877. 

The golden wedding ' O, reluctant Muse ! 

Once more be wooed from out thy coy retreat ; 
Smile on thy humble suppliant ; nor refuse 

This brilliant throng, this honored pair, to greet. 

Semi-Centennial ! what a lapse of years, 

Since these good friends in wedlock clasped the 
hand, 

And forth, with alternating hopes and fears — 
Adventured the long stroll upon Time's strand. 

I learn to honor, as I older grow, — 

As I would fain be honored, were it mine 

So long to hve ; the " gude folk" whom I know. 
Whose history reaches to the far " lang syne." 

Half century ago ; — Exceeding queer ! — 

This couple strayed beneath the soft moonlight. 

How many forms, like mine, which were not here, 
Are gathered to congratulate, this night ! 

For we were dead ; — out in the void somewhere ; — 
As dead we shortly hence again shall be ; — 



LINES, 477 

The world moTed on without us ; while this pair 
"Were living, breathing, loving souls as we. 

The same hills here reflected the same sun ; 

The same fields spread their carpeture of green ; 
The same bright river sought its course to run ; 

The same sweet stars looked out from Heaven se- 
rene; 

And most of us were, where, — O strange ! we dread 
Once more in course of nature to withdraw ; 

In realms, where kindred souls each other wed, 
And Love, we trust, is universal law. 

O, what poetic sermon would we sing, — 

So the kind muse, would breathe into the strain ; — 

But ah ! she flitteth with uncertain wing ; 
I strive to grasp a feather, but in vain ! 



Half century ago, my friends, is something of a 

while. 
It means a toilsome journey, friends, and many a 

weary mile. 
And when we greet the man and wife, who all that 

length of time 
Have clung together ; prose is dull, and thought 

should dress in rhyme. 



478 POEMS. 

For what a tlieme it opens up to the poetic pen ! 
And what perspective stretches out betwixt the 

"Now" and "Then." 
What memories it congregates in overwhelming 

throng, 
To challenge all the force of speech, and melody of 

song! 

I see in distant retrospect, the sturdy, striving 
boy, 

Ambitious, all his energy in life-work to employ ; 

To give the world endeavors best ; and, in return 
demand 

Some recognition of his worth, at this world's jeal- 
ous hand. 

Here was he to the manor born ; — a native of the 

soil ; — 
Here, spent his childhood and his youth ; and here 

his manl}^ toil. 
Coui'ageous and laborious, these many years along ; — 
O, what career more fit to be emvoven into song ! 

Life's real heroes don't wear star and garter all the 

time ; 
Your quiet, unassuming men are fittest theme for 

rhyme. 



LINES, 479 

I know some steeds upon parade evoke a loud ap- 
plause, 

But in the long run give to me the faithful one 
that DRAWS ! 

Some men produce, while more consume; — this 

friend, his whole life o'er, 
Has added, not subtracted, in the count of earthly 

store ; 
Grown rich, perhaps ; — within a home where luxuries 

surround it, — 
He'll leave at last his neighborhood much richer 

than he found it. 

So, as the soft approaches come, of life's late after- 
noon. 

Fain would we summon the fond muse, in lightly 
sandaled shoon 

Hither approach ; and for the nonce, mth smiling 
face, look down. 

And deck this septuagenary brow with fitting 
crown. 

But hush ! we can but apprehend, there'll be domes- 
tic strife. 

Unless, right here, — the muse pays some attention 
to the wife ! 



480 POEMS. 

O, what a pretty girl was she ! with glance so bright 

jet tender, 
Which brought the boy upon his knee, and bade his 

heart surrender. 

"We'll not narrate the courtship scenes enacted by 
this pair, — 

As intimated heretofore, we were engaged else- 
where. — 

Had we been here, officious aid had hardly been al- 
lowed. 

Two — then as now — was company ; but three, too 
big a crowd. 

Tradition has it, that the girl had many a sighing 
beau; 

And, for a time, not wholly smooth, Love's rivulet 
did flow ; 

And yet our hero broke the ice, and did not yield 
nor falter, 

But persevered until he led his lady to the al- 
tar. 

Though his has been a good success, the world's af- 
fairs amid, 

His marriage was the smartest thing, we think he 
ever did. 



LINTIS, 481 

A faitkful helpmeet he acquired ; a loving wife and 

mother ; — 
So he could say through all these years ; — " there 

never lived such other." 

She helped him toil and calculate ; fond babes to 

him she bore ; 
She aided to accumulate in basket and in store ; 
And sometimes — ^barely possible — her sceptre was 

the ladle, 
To make " creation's lord" sit down, and rock that 

boisterous cradle ! 

Yet she was a true heroine ; how often have I heard, 
She'd let him come home late o' nights, and never 

say a word ! 
I state this for the benefit of other ladies here — 
One, in particular, I see, I think is " on her ear." 

O, I might sing the livelong night, to coax a cry or 

laugh ; 
You notice, what I'm dealing out, is something 

"half and half ;"— 
But these old people, you can see at superficial 

glance, 
Are growing dreadful frisky, and impatient for the 

dance ! 



482 POEMS. 

So, let the hearty bugler blow his most arousing 

horn! 
Eing, bells ! Attune the jocund hours ! don't let's go 

home till mom ! 
But, when we go ; — ^both glad and sad, — how must 

we all agree — 
What we have seen this nuptial tide, we never 

more may see ! 

S. B. S. 



MOBS. 483 



MOES. 



I DREAMED there was a luxury in death. 

!Pond friends and kindred round the couch were 
sighing, 
While there in state, quiescent, I was lying, 

Awaiting calmly the expiring breath. 

It seemed, as on a throne I was uplifted, 
So all surrounding faces gazed on me ; — 

O, had I been with tongue of angel gifted, 
How had I half disclosed what I could see ! 

I saw, with rapt and beatific vision, 

"Worlds far beyond, and O, so far above ! 

Where, midst the empyrean spheres elysian, 
The seraphs love to Hve, and live to love. 

Then, all at once, at beck of some supernal 
And glorious being — radiance o'er her head — 

I seemed to soar into the realms eternal. 
And earth's poor grovellers pronounced me " der^d. " 

S. B. S. 



484 POEMS. 

SPRING. 

She comes ! I know her footsteps as they fall 
On this glad earth, so gloriously drest, 

Once more in all her bowers to install 

This new-bom goddess, this delightful guest. 

She comes ! I scent, in violet and rose. 

Her perfumed garments as she trips along ; 

How every apple-blossomed ringlet flows, 
As she moves on — a personated song ! 

She comes ! the forest trees are all awake ; 

The cataract exults ; the warm sun shines ; 
The birds their southern fastnesses forsake. 

To build once more their nests in northern pines. 

She comes ! the boys and girls are all aglee ; 

The coasting and the skating days are past, 
" Good-bye, decrepid Winter ! here comes she ! 

We love her after all, the first and last ! '' 

She comes ! best season of the rolling years, — 
Most welcome ; would we doubt the reason why ? 

She tells us every time she re-appears : 
"The dead shall rise again ; ye cannot die! " 

a B. S. 



ALBEBl. 485 



ALBERT* 



Not wrapped in memory's spell, 
But in some other self enslirined ; 

Absorbed, yet free to dwell 
Within the frescoed chambers of the mind. 

Unnumbered scenes are set, 
Distinct, but incomplete they seem ; 

As when a heart regret 
Swells to the anguished outcry of a dream. 

Mid twilight views of years, — 
Serene — exulting — yet oppressed ; — 

Wherein the boy appears 
I've rocked a thousand times upon my breast. 

'Tis but a flashing look, 
I wish and wish not to prolong ! 

'Tis caught, then quick forsook : 
The wild, weird witchery of his infant song ! 

And then consummate skill 
On harps of most melodious strings, 



* Albert was returning, when drowned at Halifax, from a two 
years' residence in Europe. He was a fine musician, and musical 
composer. His musical works have been collected and published 
in an elegant volume, by 0. Ditson & Co. , Boston. 



486 POEMS. 

Bequeaths the ecstatic thrill, — 
The sorcery Genius summons, weaves and flings. 

Again those pictures come 
Of peaceful sail ; of -wrecking shocks I 

The captain steeped in rum. 
Tossing his vessel on the jagged rocks ! 

O God ! amid the roar 
Of waves and winds ; 'mid women's cries ; 

Did that sweet spirit soar, 
Bathed in symphonious echoes from the skies I 

Child of last hope and fears ! 
Youth, with seraphic rhythm endowed ! 

Comrade of choicest years, 
A brother's soul above thy grave is bowed ! 

C. A. S. 



THE PRODIGAL SONo 487 

THE PKODIGAL SON. 

Since I heard Doctor Chapin a certain Lord's day, 
His Sabbath evangel from Heaven convey, 
I remember the service— how fitly begun,— 
As he read the old parable—" Prodigal Son." 

As that voice, so magnificent,— rendered the text, 
A stranger enraptured, whose seat was just next. 
Accosted me thus : " How the God-man in Glory,— 
I speak reverential ;— could tell a sweet story ! " 

The prodigal son ! I would touchingly bid 
Every prodigal son to do just as he did. 
You're a prodigal now ; you need only return. 
To discover what hearts for your welcoming yearn. 

No matter what goods and what hours you have 
squandered. 

No matter how far from life's duty you've wan- 
dered. 

There's a sun,— aye, a Son !— on your pathway to 
shine. 

Through a lens that's all human, but O, how divine ! 

The good brother was jealous; he stayed on the 

farm, 
And faithfully wrought with laborious arm ; 



488 POEMS, 

No matter ; — ^reserved with a fatherly care, 

In the old man's heart's chambers, a place was still 

there ! 

And the boy ; — we'll acknowledge his courses were 

wild, 
But he learned the sad lessons ; and, once more a 

child, 
From the dreadful deceits of the world would fain 

come 
Penitential to beg for the old home, at home ! 

Did the fond sire reject him? The Gospel shall 

sing,— 
" Bring forth fatted calf ; the best robe ; the bright 

ring! 
With the echoes of merriment, household, resound ! 
For our dead is alive, and our lost one is found ! " 

O, THIS is Keligion ! we're prodigals all. 
Who inhabit and tread this terrestrial ball ; 
But, for sinner, transgressor, for every one — 
There is hope ; — read the story ; ike prodigal son. 

S. B. S. 



GEOEQIANNA. 439 

GEORGIANNA. 

O, BOSOM friend of many years ! 
Partaker of my hopes and fears ; — 
Rejoicing when I did rejoice, 
And, when I wept, with gentle voice, 
And sympathetic words, assuaging 
The agony within me raging ; — 
Fond mother of fond babes of mine ; 
Priestess, at our domestic shrine ; 
Sunlight of our domestic hearth ; — 
This benizon, of little worth, 
Take from thine ardent swain of yore. 
Whose love hath ripened more and more ; — 
Georgianna ! 

Strange ! how as people come and go, 
I chanced that sparkUng lass to know. 
From out her eye there flashed one dart, 
"Which quite transfixed, and won my heart, 
I yielded all I was, and had ; 
Too fortunate, too proud, too glad 
To clasp as mine that faithful hand, 
And kneel beneath the silken band, 
Which bound us happily in one. 
As was our wedded hfe begun ; 

Georgianna ! 



490 FOEMB. 

What treasure in mj chosen mate, 
No chosen words can fitly state. 
All our experiences through, 
Thou hast been constant, loving, true. 
In all vicissitudes of life 
Thou stand' st approved, — a model wife ! 
Mayhap our grandchildren may read 
These words, and give them reverent heed ; 
Georgianna ! 

The years roll on ; — 'tis growing late, — 
And we anon must separate; 
But somewhere, on some shining shore, — 
Where amaranth blooms evermore, — 
Let's hope, the good God will permit. 
That, re-united, we may sit. 
And hear sweet strains of music sounding, 
Where Heaven's grand minstrelsy resounding 
Shall welcome to the scenes above 
The earth-born souls most meet for love ; 
Georgianna ! 

Meanwhile, be thou, — as thou hast been, — 
Within this home enthroned as queen. 
Still give, fi'om thy resources ample. 
Our children, precept and example ; 



GEORGIANNA. 491 

Be my first critic as thou hast, — 
Mentor imknown through all the past ; 
And where or how our lines may be, 
Beam on my pathway ; cleave to me ; 
Georgianna ! 

S. B. S. 



492 POEMS. 



OUE FATHEE. 

Brother ! we cannot close these waifs of ours, 
Until upon that honored grave we place, — 
With filial and with reverential grace, — 
A simple garland of memorial flowers. 

A man not only good and true, but great, — 

To us, indeed, almost a demi-god ; 

His smile was bliss ; his frown was gloom ; his nod 

Oracular ; his lightest speech was weight. 

Whoe'er would meet his logic, must prepare ; 
Whoe'er impugn his honor, must take heed ; 
Whoe'er his learning would attempt, must read ; 
Whoe'er would tell him falsehood, must beware. 

Imperious oft, and with his thoughts astray, 
How would he sometimes overawe us boys. 
How well admonished then to hush our noise, 
And shift elsewhere our racket, and our play. 

Yet we remember, in his leisure hour, — 
The golden moments of his care's surcease, — 
How would he, giving else a brief release. 
Abundant floods of warm aflection shower. 



OUR FATHER. 493 

What fund of wisdom, wit. and anecdote 
From that prolific intellect outpoured ! 
How apt, how lavish, from his memory stored, 
Could he the royal bards and sages quote ! 

How Judges hearkened ; and the learned Shaw 
Exclaimed, as he, our father, argued oft 
With rivals of that day, on themes aloft, 
" He came to Berkshire county to learn law." 

But oh ! before the " august twelve," how vast; 
How irresistible, o'erwhelming powers 
Our sire displayed ; as through unheeded hours, 
Spellbound he held his wilHng captives fast ! 

We know some Httler men had larger sphere, — 
And we have lived the why to understand ; — 
But when and where he spake, was to command ; 
He feared no anakim, — he was their peer ! 

How oft, in afternoon of Sabbath day, 

Would he the psalmist and the seer intone ; 

Voicing the sacred text, as he alone 

Could render words earth's saints were born to say. 

(And there our mother and our sister sat, — 
What specimens of glorious womanhood ! — 
Both gone ; — O God ! I would not, if I could, 
Ee-break my heart upon a theme like that !) 



494 POEMS. 

Brother ! whate'er we fail of, or acquire ; 
Wliate'er we lose in future, or secure ; 
One fixed, irrevocable boon is sure, — 
The certain sonship of a noble sire. 



S. B. S. 



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